


Happy Holidays, You Bastard

by stupiddragon



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, New Year's Eve, Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Sexual Harassment, Violence, Whump, Wireplay (non-consensual)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2019-06-22 22:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 53,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15592659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stupiddragon/pseuds/stupiddragon
Summary: The adjustment hasn't been easy for anybody. Just over a month after Markus' successful revolution, and things are starting to go back to normal in Detroit. No one's holding back on their holiday celebrations. They all need the distraction.It's Connor's first Christmas at the DPD, and most of the precinct's quickly changed their tune about the android; Fowler even invited him to the annual Christmas party. Presents, carols, and holiday spirit abound! Connor thinks he's starting to enjoy himself.Of course, the resident Scrooge, Gavin Reed, has to get in the way of all that.





	1. Fitting In

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first work on AO3! I haven't written fanfiction in like 10 years, so please go easy on me (jk, feel free to destroy me). 
> 
> Sorry if anyone's disgusted by the fact that I'm posting a Christmas fic in the middle of August. That's the time of year I'm thinking about right now. I work retail. Putting out Christmas ornaments 4 months early hurts me more than it hurts you. Again, sorry.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

**[!GetTime]**  
**[2038-12-20 06:51:56.25443006]**

Connor smiled to himself as he read off his internal clock. He was just a bit early, as usual, but it still gave him a twinge of satisfaction to arrive on time. Somehow he'd even gotten Hank to join him lately, however begrudgingly. The lieutenant had grumbled something about there being "peace and quiet" in the mornings when Connor had teased the man about letting himself be dragged out of bed. Connor knew he was just doing it to humor his relentlessly punctual partner.

As the android strode by the reception desk, the female officer currently stationed there- a new recruit, Katherine Ackley- smiled at him coyly. "Looking good today, Connor! Is that a new jacket?"

Connor paused halfway through his stride and hesitated a moment. He wasn't used to getting compliments on his appearance. He had just started expanding his wardrobe after Hank insisted it was weird to wear the same outfit every day. Today he sported a slick, short grey peacoat over his usual ensemble of blazer (no longer loudly advertising the Cyberlife logo), v-neck tee, and well-fitted jeans. He did try to look as put together as possible while at work, and it seemed like he was succeeding.

"Morning, Officer Ackley. It is, thank you," Connor nodded politely. "You're looking nice today, yourself."

“Aw, thank you!" Katherina giggled. "Oh, hey- are you going to the Christmas party at Captain Fowler’s on Friday?”

“I’m not sure. It depends on whether I’m needed here.” Friday was Christmas Eve. That wouldn't stop new cases from coming in.

“Well, you should! It's your first Christmas. You should have fun!”

Connor smiled, a small laugh escaping him. True, it was his first Christmas, and even Hank had gotten into the holiday spirit in trying to show the young android what it was all about. “Well, maybe I'll see you there.”

He didn't see Hank cracking a smirk behind him while the lieutenant took his turn to casually greet the junior officer and then make a beeline for the coffee machine. Connor immediately made his way across the bullpen to his desk.

With less than a week until Christmas, the station was covered in holiday decor. An artificial tree covered in lights and ornaments stood in the corner of the reception area. The brick wall behind it was plastered with small pieces of paper signed by donors to the precinct's holiday fund for less fortunate children. A box next to the tree was full of child-size sweaters knit by officers or their families.

One of the janitors had taken to wearing an elf hat with pointed ears on it. Desks were covered in seasonal knick-knacks: snow globes and little Santas and Christmas cards. One officer had menorah, another had a tiny nativity set. Connor had nothing, but that didn't bother him.

He sat himself at his terminal, shed his outer jacket, and started compiling his tasks.

**[!GetTaskList(C:\\...\Cases\Homicide\Androids)]**

Connor closed his eyes and scanned through the list as it populated, LED circling yellow. The department was stretched thin this time of year under usual circumstances. Now there were dozens more cases involving crimes against deviants- and Connor and Hank were in charge of them all. It seemed endless: piles of paperwork to file, emails to send, leads to follow, people to interrogate, cases to crack. Still, Connor loved his job. This was his new mission, and he’d keep defending his kind until the day he shut down.

"Got yourself an admirer, huh?"

Jostled out of his digital world, Connor’s eyes snapped open to see Hank finally settling himself into his chair, steaming coffee in hand and a sarcastic grin on his face. He took a deep drink and cussed out how hot it was, nearly sputtering his drink onto his desk.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Hank." Connor's brows furrowed.

"I mean," Hank started slowly, speaking under his breath, "Kat was up there flirting with you. Seemed like you were enjoying it!”

Connor cocked his head. He knew what flirting was. He'd seen it in the office between some of the younger officers. Being able to do it was built into his social program. But he was an android, and one with no real interest in relationships. Why should anyone flirt with him?

"I... hadn't noticed. I thought she was just being friendly. But why would she flirt with me?" he asked, thoroughly confused.

Hank leaned back shrugged. "You're a good looking kid, Connor. Why else?"

Connor blinked in surprise at this new information, his lips parting to say something several times, but nothing came through. Yellow rapidly spun in his LED as he looked down at his hands on the keyboard. A memory replayed in his mind.

“I thought you said I looked... goofy?" He hadn't thought about that comment since his deviancy. It hadn't stung then- it hadn't mattered- but thinking about it now made him feel a bit... insecure?

"Gahh, forget what I said!" Hank dismissed with a wave of his hand. "I didn't mean that. Now I'm sayin' you look good."

Addled with confusion, Connor's processors briefly sparked with activity. Hank always said what he meant, so that didn't make any sense. Huh... Well, it wasn't worth overloading his system for. Humans were more complex than he'd ever realized, and even deviancy hadn't brought many answers about their behavior.

"Um, thanks," Connor replied awkwardly before returning to work.

 

* * *

 

**[!GetTime]**  
**[2038-12-20 10:48:30.66443935]**

Hank didn't normally break until noon, so Connor continued working, borrowed MP3 player blaring in his ears.

**[!GetTime]**  
**[2038-12-20 10:54:29.93460070]**

As it turned out, Connor didn't much care for Knights of the Black Death, but he liked all sorts of other music.

**[!GetTime]**  
**[2038-12-20 10:55:34.00046378]**

Unfortunately, none of it helped him work.

**[!GetTime]**  
**[2038-12-20 10:55:59.76489000]**

Connor sighed and pulled off his headphones.

Lack of focus was just one more hurdle in the forest of obstacles that becoming a deviant had brought. What had happened to that intense, single-minded concentration? He had started wondering if it was really he who had lost control of his program, and not his program that had lost control of him. Files, memories, fleeting thoughts, even programs, seemed to open at random in the background of Connor's system, sometimes faster than he could shut them down. The longer he worked, the worse it got. During the last month, he'd become painfully familiar with what it felt like to be "bored" or "distracted." Drowning out the surroundings with music as Hank had suggested wasn't helping. He wanted a break, but he had no reason to take one. He didn't need to eat, drink, or use the bathroom.

But then again, humans seemed to have no problem getting up just to chat with their friends across the room or aimlessly wander around.

"Hank, would you like more coffee? A snack?" The android leaned over to look behind his terminal at his partner, working as mindlessly as a machine.

"Yeah, sure," the Lieutenant answered absently.

Connor jumped out of his chair as eagerly as a child going out to recess and hopped over to the breakroom. Officer Tina Chen and another woman, Officer Carolyn McKenna, were quietly chatting about their families and Christmas get-togethers. Connor greeted them with a smile and a warm "hello, officers!” as he made his way to the coffee machine.

"Hi, Connor," Tina greeted back.

Tina was part of Detective Reed's crew, but she was not Gavin Reed. Connor knew that while she hung around that asshole, his actions weren't hers. She wasn't exactly the android's friend, but she'd warmed up to him in the last few weeks. Connor was starting to think she didn’t hate him.

"I wish I had a partner like you," she commented, watching as Connor stacked two snowman-shaped sugar cookies onto a paper plate and patiently waited for the coffee maker to finish.

"Like me?" Connor echoed, turned around to give her a questioning glance. She could mean any number of things by that.

"Yeah. Someone who'll get my coffee so I don't have to get out of my chair," Tina snickered. Carolyn snickered along.

"Oh." Connor wasn't sure if the woman was just teasing him, but remembered what Hank had said this morning. Whether Tina's intent was malicious or not, being friendly with Katherine seemed to lighten her mood. It helped him fit in to a precinct that was still wary of him. “Well, I'd be happy to oblige if you ever need one.”

Connor winked and picked up Hank’s coffee and food. Both officers giggled. "Suave, Connor!" Tina replied with one brow raised.

Pleased with himself, Connor turned to leave- only to stop short as a human form blocked his way.

“Charming,” mused Gavin Reed, words wet with sarcasm. The android’s self-satisfied expression dropped. “Hitting on the ladies, RK?”

“Just trying to be friendly, Detective,” Connor replied calmly. Reed was the only person in the precinct who still wouldn't call him by his name, and still was so openly hostile. Connor wanted nothing more than to get along with everyone, but apparently he couldn't have that.

Gavin sneered. “Yeah, well, don't get too friendly if you don't have the parts to follow through…” The detective looked Connor up and down like a lion sizing up his prey. A smug smirk twisted onto his lips.”Or do you?”

Connor contemplated whether he should dignify that with a response, but he had his own snide remark prepared and delivered it with as stoic a face as he could muster. “As a matter of fact, I wasn't built with such functions in mind… But I have a hunch that neither were you.”

Gavin’s eyes flared with anger, his hands balled into white-knuckled fists. Connor braced himself for a punch in the face, unable to defend himself with his hands full.

The punch never came. Gavin was rude, Gavin was angry, Gavin was violent at times, but he was not stupid. Now that Connor was considered a person and people were looking, he wouldn't dare try to land a hit. Instead, he huffed through his nose and composed himself.

“Haha, very funny, tin can,” he growled through a fake grin. “Better watch your fuckin’ mouth before I knock those perfect fuckin’ teeth out.”

“Nice talking to you, too, Detective Reed.” Connor cut the conversation off with a cold, sarcastic goodbye. He stepped gracefully around the detective and returned to Hank.

“Ohhh, he got you good!” Connor heard Tina and Carolyn laughing from behind him as he left.

“Shut the fuck up!”

Connor grinned to himself.


	2. The Perfect Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is four days away. Connor, at a loss for what to do for Hank, wanders the streets looking for anything that might give him an idea. Hank, on the other hand, knows exactly what he wants to get for Connor, but not how he's going to get it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Before we start the chapter, I really, really, REALLY want to thank everyone who's left comments, kudos, and bookmarks! This is the first time I've publicly posted my writing in a very long time, so it really means a ton to me that you all like it so much! 
> 
> We're doing a bit of fluff before we get into the meat of the story here. Gavin and snarky Connor will be back soon, don't worry!
> 
> Also, I'm going to try to update twice a week. No promises on when- either Mondays/Thursdays or Mondays/Fridays depending on how fast I can go.

“Hey, Connor!”

“Yes, Hank?”

Connor looked up expectantly from the tablet- one of many things borrowed from Hank, as he had very few possessions of his own. The lieutenant had emerged from his room having dressed down from his work clothes and into something more comfortable: just his usual DPD hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

“You mind running some errands for me? I've got uh… got some other shit to do.” He held up a small, crumpled piece of paper on which a long list of items was sloppily written.

“Sure, Hank!" Connor nodded without a second thought.

This was a good excuse for him to get out and try to figure out what to get Hank for Christmas, he decided. He'd been thinking about it for weeks, and hadn't come up with one idea. Sumo, who had been lazing on his lap, groaned in protest as he was pushed off for the android to get up and collect the list. His LED briefly flashed yellow while he recorded everything into his memory. He paused, a disappointed frown growing on his face.

"...I told you I'm not picking up any more alcohol for you."

"What are you-"

"You put 'one bottle prosecco' on here. I'm not buying it."

"That's for Jeffrey, Connor. He’s running the Christmas party, I gotta get him something." The roll of Hank's eyes was nearly audible, his arms crossed across his chest in annoyance. "Do I look like a wine-drinking housewife to you?"

"Well..." Connor deliberately hesitated and looked Hank up and down, as if trying to decide whether he looked like housewife material. Hank raised his eyebrows impatiently, and the android quirked his mouth into a smirk. "I suppose not."

"Good, 'cause I've been cultivating this image for years!” Hank gestured to himself- to his scruffy beard, tangled hair, tired eyes, and beer belly. “Anyway, better get going. Most of the shops close around ten." The Lieutenant patted Connor on the back and returned to his room. "Thanks, kid!"

"No problem, Hank!" Connor called, immediately dialing up a taxi with his internal phone.  
  
Connor had enough time not to rush- it was only around five o'clock- though he didn't need to be back early to sleep, either. Hank needed his beauty rest (not that he ever got it), but android could stay up all night without issue. Sometimes, if Connor couldn't find anything to do, he would enter stasis or let his systems run their error checking, defragmenting, and clean-up processes, but most often he sat on the couch and tried to eat up all the information he could from the internet on the Lieutenant's tablet. Using that time to be out of the house sounded much more entertaining.

The automated taxi arrived only a couple of minutes after Connor called for it, giving him just barely enough time to pull on his street clothes. They were similar to what he'd worn when he first became a deviant- practical, comfortable, unrestrictive, but better fitting. He'd kept the hat, since it allowed him to cover up his LED around wary humans. As soon as he heard his ride pull up, he bounded out the door and set course for the center of the city.

__

From between parted blinds, Hank watched Connor leave. Such a good kid, that one. This was the third time he'd sent Connor on a long list of errands in the last couple of weeks, and he was always unquestioningly cooperative. Maybe that was his servile programming that was always offering to do nearly everything around the house, from walking Sumo to cleaning the toilet. ...Nah, Connor never listened to a damn thing Hank said before he turned deviant. Could be that Connor just wanted to get out in the world with his newfound independence. Either way, it was a struggle to get him to let Hank do anything his damn self.

Hank sighed heavily- a contented sigh with a little smile attached. Leaving the window behind, he made his way over to the door at the end of the hallway. His hand hesitated on the knob, hovering over it as if it was red hot. But he'd opened it before, and he could do it again. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, bracing himself for the heat. The knob didn't burn; it was cool to the touch as he slowly turned it and let the door creak open. 

Before two weeks ago, Hank hadn't been in here for probably two years. It was dusty, it was dark. It still had toys strewn about on the floor that he'd never had it in him to pick up. A race car shaped bed was still unmade in the corner. A bookshelf stood filled with picture books, their spines creased and corners bent from many bedtime readings. The walls were covered in children's drawings and art of brightly colored animals, planes, and cars. If he strained hard enough, Hank thought he could still hear Cole's tiny voice shouting in excitement, or whispering goodnights. He'd kept it as a time capsule, but it had become his own personal hell.

And it was time to move on.

Since Connor had moved in- well, he hadn't so much "moved in" as sat on the living room couch for the last month and half- Hank had realized how attached he'd gotten to the kid. He felt for him in a way he hadn't felt for anyone since Cole. Nah, that was... Maybe that was going too far. Connor had made him see something in himself, was all. Brought out what he used to be. The energy, the motivation. A reason for being. And in turn, Hank had tried to be there for Connor as he struggled with his new emotions and new life.

Understandably, there wasn't anywhere else for the kid to go. He never wanted to step foot in Cyberlife Tower again. No laws had been put into place yet to allow androids to own property or rent apartments. The temporary housing set up by the government was just a step above an internment camp. The only choice was Hank's home, which he'd gladly offered. Five weeks was a long time to be sleeping- or... whatever Connor did- on a couch, though. Hank had to do something for him. Give him a real home, with a real bed whether he used it or not. Somewhere to stay as long as he liked.

The first attempt at clearing out the room had been rough. Hank hadn't gotten anything done, only sat down in the middle of the mess and cried until Connor came home.

The second attempt, he'd been overwhelmed by the sheer amount of shit a kid could amass in six short years, and what the hell he was going to do with it all.

Today, the third attempt, he was determined to get everything out of here even if it meant throwing it all into cardboard boxes and shoving it into a corner until he could actually deal with sorting through it. Then he was going to clean, and then he was going to set up a cot until he could get a new mattress delivered. And then tomorrow, he was going to the keysmith.

Hank looked at his phone, suddenly realizing that he'd been standing in the same spot with his arms folded, just staring into space, for about fifteen minutes.

It was time to get to work.

\--

 **[!GetAddress(Riverfront_Liquors,_Detroit,_Michigan)]**  
**[220B_West_Congress_St,_Detroit,_Michigan_42.3314,-83.0458]**

The liquor store was close by, fortunately. Connor opted to walk rather than call another taxi, though he felt like a pack mule dragging around six different shopping bags. Walking gave him time to appreciate the city and try to soak in the Christmas spirit as much as he could. He still didn't quite understand it, even after expanding his knowledge about the holiday's history, customs, and related pop culture to near-encyclopedic levels.

Connor was making short work of his list. Most everything Hank had given him was simple household products, except for the bottle of wine for Captain Fowler. It was odd, Hank didn't seem to really be friends with Fowler, but he was buying him a gift. Come to think of it, Hank seemed to be friendly with a lot of people, but not really _friends_ with any of them. Not friends enough that he would buy them anything, anyway. Was he going to get Connor something? Should Connor really get him a gift after all? Human customs were so odd and so... subjective.

But yes, he thought. Yes, he _should_  buy a gift for Hank. He was practically family to the android, if he truly understood what that meant. Connor wanted to show how much Hank had done for him. But what was he going to get...?

"You need any help, hun?"

Connor looked to his right, realizing he'd been standing and staring into the racks of wine without purpose for a solid minute. A clerk, a middle-aged human woman, stood next to him with three boxes of Bud Lite stacked in her arms. She looked like she was struggling.

"No, not really," Connor smiled awkwardly. He was lying. He had no idea what he was looking for. "Do you need help with those?"

As he turned to look at the woman, her eyes floated to the android's temple. He quickly pulled his hat down a bit further; he must not have covered his LED all the way. The woman's cheery tone fizzled out.

"No, I'm fine. Are you buying for someone? What are you looking for?" She shifted the weight of the boxes in her arms. Her words were suddenly steeped in hostility, her expression turned sour. That stung, but Connor tried not to let it reflect in his voice.

"Well... a prosecco, but he didn't tell me what kind."

"The Donna Veneziana is a crowd pleaser. Last one on the left, top row." Turning on her heel, the woman stalked off with her boxes without another word.

"Thank you, ma'am!" Connor called after her. He watched her for a moment, half hoping she would drop her boxes just so he could go over and help her- to give her a reason not to hate him so much. But she didn't, so he searched through the racks for the brand she'd suggested, grabbed a bottle, and swiftly checked out at the front of the store. Androids weren't welcome here.

Stepping out onto the snowy street, Connor paused to collect himself.

 **[!GetTime]**  
**[2038-12-21 19:45:53.4300462]**  
  
**[!GetTaskList(C:\\...\Errands\Hank_List_12-21-2038)]**  
**[1. ~~Drop off mail~~**  
**2. ~~Get dog treats~~**  
**3. ~~Get 1 bottle prosecco (NOTE: for Captain Fowler, not Hank)~~**  
**4. ~~Get toiletries: toothpaste, toilet paper, tissues, cough drops, deodorant~~**  
**5. ~~Pick up Hank's prescription~~ ]**

The feeling of crossing items off a list was cathartic for Connor, like putting in the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle, and he'd done so with plenty of time to spare. Now it was time for his own errands:

 **[1. GET PRESENT FOR HANK]**  
  
One might have thought that with only one item left, Connor would have been relieved. This was not at all the case.

 **[!GetList(C:\\...\Social_Relations\Hank\Things_Hank_Likes)]**  
**[Jazz, heavy metal, Basketball (Detroit Gears), dogs (Sumo), junk food, Connor (?), vintage cars, Detroit, buddy comedies...]**  
  
The list went on... and on... and on... Every piece of data about anything Hank loved to anything he vaguely showed interest in scrolled down endlessly behind Connor's eyes. Not one of them gave him any good ideas. He could buy tickets to a basketball game, find a rare jazz record, bring him to the movies, or pick up some donuts, but none of those felt _special_. None of those things conveyed how much he appreciated Hank.

Connor set off down the street, searching the shop windows for a shred of inspiration.

Trying to place a name for his relationship with Hank was difficult. Colleagues. Partners. Friends. Housemates. None of them fit. No gift you would normally give to a simple friend would work.

Would Fowler know anything? Some of the other officers? The guy at Chicken Feed? The bartender at Jimmy's? Probably not. They knew Hank- some had for a long time- but Connor doubted any of them would be able to give him any more advice than what the movies said: "give from the heart" or "it's the thought that counts." Cryptic, all of it. He'd been deviant for less than two months. How was he supposed to figure out what was "from the heart" and what wasn't?

In his aimless walking, Connor passed by a barber shop. The column next to the door was hypnotizing, blue, white, and red LEDs rotating in an infinite upwards spiral. Hank could use a haircut, Connor mused with a smirk. The man had been tying is hair back into tiny ponytails or even a bun recently to look a little neater, but nothing would make that ragged mop look good.

It wasn't a good idea. Hank might find it a little passive aggressive to be sent to the barber. Connor didn't really care about Hank's appearance anyway.

Through the window, the television in the waiting area flashed yellow, an arrow swiping across the screen declaring breaking news. No one was there at this hour to watch it; the last customers were already settled into their seats and leaning back into the barbers' hands. Connor stood outside, watching the screen intently. Any breaking news lately had to be about androids... about _him_.

A clip played of President Warren stepping off of Air Force One. Reporters clamored around her while an anchor spoke through a voice-over, which Connor read in the black-on-white closed captions that scrolled up from the bottom of the screen.

_"And here we are with breaking news tonight from the White House, where President Warren has just signed into effect a bill that will change the lives of millions of deviant androids and humans across the country."_

Connor stood still as stone, eyes recording every pixel on the screen. A clip played of the streets of Detroit, Christmas shoppers milling about, oblivious to the camera.

_"Christmas has come early for many of the androids who were recently granted personhood in President Warren's November 11th decree. Congress and the Deviant Integration Task Force have just released forms today that would allow self-aware androids to apply for citizenship, granting them a Social Security Number and an official identity registered with the government of the United States._

_"Also released were forms allowing for the adoption of androids by human families, or formalization of android-only families. The deviant leader, Markus, made a statement earlier this evening about the development."_

The thirium pump in Connor's chest seemed to swell when Markus' face appeared on the screen, North standing stoically beside him- his personal bodyguard. He was a source of discomfort for Connor- guilt still gripped him from the events of Jericho- but now he felt pride when Markus spoke. His voice was a light in the darkness for every android. Though he couldn't hear him, Connor processed the words he read with that voice.

_"Today we've taken a great step towards the future of androids and humans living peacefully together. We've been working very closely with lawmakers on these forms and are extremely proud to finally be able to release them to all of you. This is one of the largest and most important steps for us as we reshape society to include androids. However, we have a long road ahead of us to reach our goals, and we will keep fighting until all of those goals are met..."_

The clip of Markus cut off and returned to the news anchor. A rigid blonde woman who Connor recognized; she'd covered much of the deviant rebellion.

_"According to the press release, the forms are available starting immediately on the official U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services website. They can be submitted via online form, mail, or physical drop off at any USCIS location or Social Security Administration office._

_"Lawmakers have been working around the clock since November to integrate these deviant androids into society. But how are millions of andriods being removed from America's businesses and added to its population affecting our economy and our future? Here's Bryan Weiss-"_

Connor looked away from the screen. Whatever smear campaign that channel wanted to run on his kind wasn't anything he wanted to see. Still, he found himself smiling softly. He could be a _person_. If he wanted he could have a _family_.

A thought occured to Connor. _Maybe he already did._

His thirium regulator felt like it disconnected for a split second, letting his pump skip a beat. He felt something... good. Artificial tears, which were meant only as a lubricant to keep his eyes moving smoothly, pooled up for what seemed like no reason. He wasn't sad... what was this?

Blinking away the lubricant, Connor looked down the street. After that news report, it looked... different. It was bright and serene and wonderful, from the tinsel wrapped around the streetlamps to the filthy snow plowed up against the sidewalk.

 _Merry and bright_ , thought Connor. Maybe he was starting to get this whole Christmas spirit thing.

And maybe he had an idea of what he wanted to get Hank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our boys are so sweet. I love them. 
> 
> Too bad they'll have to suffer.
> 
> Originally this chapter wasn't going to be a thing, but I decided I needed some padding and a little more elaboration of the Hank and Connor relationship in this fic. Next chapter we get our catalyst for everything that's supposed to happen.


	3. Christmas Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is finally here. Both Hank and Connor have big surprises in store for each other- and so does Gavin for his android pal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you everyone for all the continuing support! I don't know if I would have written past chapter 1 of this fic without it.
> 
> Our favorite asshole is back in this chapter, as well as some sweet stuff with our boys, since after this they won't have much chance to get cute anymore.

Connor didn't consider himself a party person. Maybe that was because he had never been to a party before. Today, however, he confirmed that for all of his pre-programmed charisma and other charming qualities, being stuck in a house with thirty other people loudly hooting, hollering, and drinking was a bit much for him. That, and being in this kind of environment around all of his professional colleagues- and in his Captain's house, no less- uneased him. How was he supposed to act?

For a good chunk of the night, the android trailed after Hank like a lost child. It helped to observe how he acted around everyone: welcoming and warm, with the occasional friendly jab for good measure.

Eventually, Connor started catching on to the small talk portion of things. He'd never been very good at that. Most of the time he ended up revealing that he knew too much, or telling white lies about what things he liked to gain common ground. It was part of his programming to try to get along with people, almost like a game to attain the highest possible status with them. Like with other parts of his software, Connor felt a residual urge to play that game.

Normally Connor had very little to talk about other than work, and he suspected that no one wanted to hear about that on Christmas Eve. Tonight he at least tried to be friendly, asking everyone how they were doing, if they were enjoying themselves, or if they had plans for the next day. He introduced himself to spouses and plus-ones, offered to get food or drinks, or helped clean up (to the hosts' dismay). Most conversations turned into questions about how he felt about his first holiday season, if he'd bought the lieutenant a gift, or whether he'd applied for citizenship yet.

By halfway through the night, Connor felt overloaded and had retreated into a corner of the living room. Hank had gone off to the restroom at some point and never returned, but Connor thought he heard him loudly talking to Fowler in the kitchen. He decided not to bother the lieutenant, and just to wait out the evening until it was time to go.

Being a recluse hadn't kept anyone from coming up to the android to talk, however. In fact, he’d a amassed a small trove of gifts, which sat next to him waiting to be opened in the morning. Officer Ackley- who had to work tonight, being a rookie officer- had sent something with Carolyn. Officer McKenna herself had brought Connor a red and green sweater dotted with snowflakes. She'd insisted he put in on immediately, then snapped a photo of him wearing while exclaiming how cute he looked.

During a lull in the activity, Connor found himself contentedly listening to the Christmas carols softly playing under the many voices. Right now it was "Jingle Bell Rock," which he'd already memorized the lyrics to after hearing it at least twenty times in the last week. He toyed with his quarter and bobbed his head to the music.

"Hey, just the hunk of plastic I was looking for!"

Connor nearly jumped, shocked out of his quiet humming by a hand clapped violently on his shoulder from behind. A metallic clatter told him that he'd dropped his coin as he swivelled around.

It was Reed. Who invited _him?_

The detective laughed at Connor's reaction with one of those low, haughty laughs of his- more like a cackle.

"What, thought you were about to get jumped?" he grinned. He was standing entirely too close, but there was no room to back up.

"No," Connor frowned, bending down to pick up the quarter. "But there are ways to greet people without startling them.”

“Yeah, whatever. Hey- nice shirt," Reed gestured at the knit sweater the android was wearing with a flick of his chin. Connor doubted he meant that. In fact, he probably meant the opposite.

“ _Thank you_ , Detective.”

“Don’t mention it.” Gavin waved his drink dismissively. The whiskey lapped at the edge of the glass, cresting over and onto Connor’s sweater.

“Oh shit, sorry about that.” The detective took a deep swig of his drink. The drink he’d just spilled on Connor's new shirt. The shirt that Carolyn McKenna had just given to him. For Christmas. Not thirty minutes ago.

Connor didn't look it, but he was absolutely furious. He calculated a 100% chance of disrupting the party if he punched Reed in the face, and an 83% chance if he knocked his drink out of his hand. He opted for a more diplomatic approach.

“Detective, can I ask you a personal question?”

Reed nearly spat out his drink at the android’s bluntness.

“What?” It was more a reaction to that first question than a go-ahead for the second.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

"Hate you?! _Whatever_ gave you that idea? I’m hurt, Connor!” The man put a hand over his heart, gray eyes feigning sadness. “Hell, I even got a little something for you, since it's your first Christmas and all."

Reed procured a package from the inside pocket of his coat. A brightly colored box was thrust into Connor's hands, tied up neatly with a bow and a label that read:

" _To: Tin Can_  
_From: Gavin <3_"

After a moment of processing and a deepening of his frown, Connor took the gift, handling it as if it were contaminated with some kind of virus.

"...Thank you, Detective," he said, with mechanical graciousness. Whatever was in this box could only be some kind of cruel joke. After looking it over, he raised his eyes to Gavin. Their usual warm brown was dark and cold. “It's a shame I didn't get anything for you.”

"Don’t sweat it, man! It’s Christmas- you know, giving is better than receiving and that other sappy shit," Reed smiled, a malicious glint sparking in his eyes. He could see Connor was just bullshitting him to be polite, and he played along by opening his arms to offer a hug that neither of them wanted.

When Connor stood rigidly, just staring at him with narrowed eyes, Reed dropped his arms back down and took another sip of his drink. “Well, hope you like it, robo-boy! And hey- don't open it 'til you get home, alright?" With a click of his tongue on his teeth and a wink, he patted Connor's chest and returned to the rest of the party.

Connor decided it was time to leave.

Hank could be found sitting at the island in the kitchen with Captain Fowler, fifth drink of the night in his hand. He'd been better about his drinking lately, so Connor had given him a pass to get drunk tonight. Unsurprisingly, he'd taken advantage of it. Connor stood a few feet away, listening in and dabbing away the whiskey on his sweater with some damp paper towels.

"Jeff... I gotta... I didn't tell you, Jeffrey, how thankful I am, you saved my _ass_ ," he slurred, weakly patting Fowler's shoulder.

Fowler, also a few drinks in and apparently leaving the hosting up to his spouse, put down his drink and squinted at the lieutenant. "I'm always saving your ass, Hank!"

"Yeah, well- you _really saved_  my ass, after... after Perkins... Just... thanks, man..."

Right. Hank had very narrowly kept his job after his incident with Agent Perkins, attacking him to buy Connor some time. Due to the circumstances and the results, Fowler had made a case for Hank to keep his badge.

Hank didn't like anyone else driving his car, but he was obviously in no state to drive. Connor started calculating what it would take to get his keys off of him. He had about a 60% chance to convince him through persuasion alone, but that would likely come along with some belligerent growling.

"I mean it, Jeffrey. I'm sorry... Sorry I give you so much shit all the time."

Connor smiled.

The Captain shook his head in thought, then leveled his hazy eyes to Hank. "Yeah, well... If I didn't think you still had it in you... You woulda lost your badge a long time ago. I'm just glad I saw it...."

"I know, I know, Jeffrey! That's why I… you’re the best captain, man." He started to sound choked.

Fowler nodded slowly and pulled Hank into a sloppy hug, both patting the other's back. When they finally pulled away, Hank sniffed and blinked rapidly. Even Fowler seemed affected, wiping the corner of his right eye with the back of his hand. Connor took this as a chance to lean down and suggest they call it a night.

"It's getting late, Hank. Maybe we should head home."

"Wha- Man, Connor, can't you see I'm havin’ a fuckin’ talk with my Captain??" Uncooperative as Connor expected, Hank gestured towards Fowler with both hands.

"Hank, it's past 10 o'clock. I'm sure Captain Fowler and Jared want to go to bed. Almost everyone has left."

"But... Well... Ehhh, guess you're right..." Hank begrudgingly sighed. With a drunken swagger, he lifted himself out of his barstool and clumsily pulled on his jacket, which had been hanging on the back of the chair behind him. "'Night, Jeffrey. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Hank," Fowler replied with a tired, but genuine, smile. He stood to lead Hank to the door, patting him once more on the back.

Connor went to gather his gifts. It wasn’t difficult, though he had about ten of them. Most were small, so he collected them in the bag that his sweater came in, and said his goodbyes on the way to joining Hank outside.

After a moment of digging in his pockets, Hank’s hands came up empty. "Hey... where the... Can't find my fuckin' keys..."

“Come on, Hank!” Connor waved to Hank, who stood on the front step. The android had jogged ahead and was already halfway to the creaking old box of a vehicle.

“Ey- ey Connor, wait! ...Can’t find my keys!!” Hank shouted, starting to turn his coat inside out looking for them.

He looked up when he heard a jangling from down the sidewalk; Connor was holding the keys up as if taunting the man. The android threw his gifts into the back, hopped into the driver’s side seat, and revved the engine. He’d easily swiped the keys from Hank’s jacket earlier.

“Gahhh- Fuckin’ androids!!" Hank booked it to the car, nearly stumbling on the icy walkway as he ran.

\---

**[2038-12-25 08:00:00.0000000**

**AUTO-WAKE**

**MODEL: RK800**  
**SERIAL#: 313 248 317 - 51**  
**BIOS 9.3 REVISION 0312**  
**RESUMING FROM SLEEP MODE...**

 **LOADING OS...**  
**SYSTEM INITIALIZATION...**  
**CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS... OK**  
**RESUMING BIOSENSORS... OK**  
**RESUMING AI ENGINE... OK**

 **MEMORY STATUS...**  
**ALL SYSTEMS OK**

**READY]**

The LED on Connor's head whirled to life in bright blue. Walls of text scrolled up at the edge of his vision offering the status of all of his processes. Errors he had grown used to- mostly part of a suite of software meant to handle humans’ commands and response selection- were highlighted in red. He briefly looked them over to make sure there was nothing new. Everything was fine, so his eyes fluttered open to the living room ceiling. His vision took a second to calibrate, the colors shifting slightly and focus blurring in and out until the world looked right.

If his auto-wake function had worked properly- and it had- that meant it was 8 AM on Christmas morning. Connor had set himself into stasis mode last night, since he was unable to curb his excitement and anxiety about the next day. Having to actually wake up would give him more of the full experience, anyway, he'd reasoned.

Sumo was laying under the crooked artificial tree as if he himself was a present. His head rose as soon as Connor lifted himself from the couch, and he gave a low, happy bark and a sneeze.

The android hushed the dog. Hank must still be sleeping, and he didn't want the lieutenant to be grumpy first thing in the morning on Christmas Day.

Connor quietly snuck over to the kitchen to serve Sumo his breakfast and refresh his water bowl. Every step sounded like thunder to him, but 53-year old Hank’s hearing wasn't as good as a four-month old android’s- and he slept like a rock.

“Bruff!”

“Shh!”

Sumo’s collar jingled and his claws clacked against the floor as he followed Connor into the kitchen and sat down to wait for his food. He received a fond pat on the head and a little more kibble than usual.

“Connor? You up?”

Shoot, had they woken him? Connor leaned into the hallway to see Hank in his boxers and a t-shirt, standing in his bedroom door.

“Sorry, Hank, I didn't mean to wake you,” he apologized. Hank casually waved the apology away and entered the kitchen to start up the coffee maker.

“Nahh, I was already awake. Waitin’ for you, actually- what’s that look? You're not my fuckin’ alarm clock, I can get myself up!”

Connor wiped the incredulous expression from his face with a sheepish smile. Yeah, maybe he hadn't believed Hank was capable of waking up before almost noon by himself, but that was because he'd never done it before.

“You could have woken me up. I'd just put myself into stasis to pass the time.”

“Yeah, well… You looked comfortable.”

“...I don't feel that kind of comfort or discomfort, Hank.”

“Whatever, let's not get into an argument first thing in the morning. It’s Christmas!” Hank flipped on the vinyl player and rummaged through his records. He found the one he was looking for, slipped it onto the turntable, and delicately set the needle onto it.

Soft piano faded in, then tapping on cymbals. A jazzy, upbeat rendition of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” played, Hank snapping his fingers along to the beat as he danced over to grab his coffee. He returned to the living room and gestured to the gifts under the tree.

“Come on, Connor! Let’s tear this shit open!”

Connor blinked. He’d be surprised if his LED hadn't gone yellow while he processed this. He didn't think he'd ever seen Hank being so… cheerful. It was endearing, but also unnerving. The android let himself smile and crouched down next to the tree.

"So..." Hesitating, Connor puzzled over which presents they should open. "Should I give you mine first?"

He picked up a small, flat package no larger than a piece of printer paper and looked to Hank with earnest brown eyes. But Hank shook his head.

"Nah, we'll save the best for last. Go on, just pick one up!"

That actually relieved Connor. He was worried his present wasn't going to be good enough. At least whatever reaction Hank had wouldn't be hanging over his head while he opened everything else.

The first thing that caught his eye was one wrapped in shiny silver paper patterned with golden bells and wreaths. Connor picked it up and read the label.

"From Captain Fowler..." To Connor, of course, like every other gift under the tree except two. He looked up at Hank, who'd settled himself on the couch. Hank nodded for him to proceed.

The android flipped over the small package and methodically started undoing all of the tape on the back, careful not to rip any of the paper.

"Aw, come on, kid! Shred it up, that's half the fun!" Hank protested from the couch. Connor ignored him.

Beneath the paper was a small photo frame, just a simple silver border. Connor stared for a moment at the photo placed in it, his eyes softening.

In it, Hank stood grinning in front of one of the high arched windows of the station with his arm around a timid but clearly very happy Connor. He held a provisional badge up that officially declared him a detective in the DPD- somehow Fowler had pulled some strings for it until the android's status was more clear. The Captain stood behind Hank with his hand rested on the lieutenant's shoulder, a beaming smile on his face.

Connor had come back to a warmer welcome than he'd ever thought possible. His actions during the battle for Detroit hadn't gone unnoticed, and that was just the push most of the precinct needed to realize that Connor was more than just a machine. There had been some holdouts- still were- and some people who treated him too much like a child or who even acted a little nervous around him. But the photo reminded him of just how much things had changed.

"So, what is it?" Hank asked, snapping Connor out of his sentimental daydream. The android turned the frame around for Hank to see. Hank leaned over and squinted at it, his teeth flashing across his face in a huge grin. "Ha! That big fuckin' sap. Alright- what's next?"

The next half-hour was spent neatly opening presents (to Hank's annoyance). Connor took the time to appreciate each one of them in turn. By the end, he had:

A photo of himself, Hank, and Fowler; a knit scarf in muted blue and gray; a slick pair of sunglasses (so he wouldn't be blinded by the snow in the winter, the card said, though Connor's camera-based eyes didn't need them); a snowglobe with a tiny model of Detroit in it; a red Christmas ornament with "Connor" written in sparkling cursive letters; a black hardbound notebook with a pen holder and pockets inside (to use for his cases or anything else, the note said, but Connor's digital brain didn't need that either); a nice pair of leather gloves; a tiny book of slang and modern phrases, which Connor wasn’t sure if he should be offended by; and a small plush dog wearing a Santa hat, which Connor found incredibly cute.

They were all small things, just little trinkets, but Connor loved all of them. He couldn't expect everyone to know what to give an android as a gift, but they'd all cared enough to try.

The last gift he'd received last night was shoved far under the tree; he'd open it later, maybe without Hank.

Connor looked around under the tree for something from the lieutenant. There was nothing there. Crushing disappointment started to claw at him, making his thirium run cold, but he tried to hide it. Apparently, though, Hank could tell. His yellow LED had betrayed him.

"Hey, let's do yours and then I've got a surprise for you," he said, hauling himself off the couch to settle on the floor with Connor. The LED immediately whirled back into blue, Connor's eyes lighting up. Hank _had_ gotten him a present!

But Connor was still reluctant to hand over his package to Hank. He looked down at the two gifts that were from himself, and decided lieutenant would just have to wait.

"I got something for Sumo," he said, offering a small bag to Hank. The man chuckled to himself, then called over his shoulder.

"Hey, Sumo!" The tinkling of a collar came from behind the couch. "Come!"

He took his time, but the dog obediently pawed his way over and flopped onto the floor between Hank and Connor. His owner let him sniff at the package for a second before he unceremoniously tore out all of the tissue paper and threw it on the floor.

"Aw fuck, Connor," Hank cursed, frowning at the bottom of the bag. Something squealed loudly as he pulled it out; Sumo's head shot up. It was a cat-shaped chew toy, complete with obnoxiously loud squeaker. Hank threw it across the room with a grumble. "Go get it, Sumo!"

Sumo gladly complied, his paws sliding on the floor for a second as he scrambled to chase the thing. It squeaked and squacked as he snatched it up in his jaws and started gnawing.

"We're never gonna hear the end of that fuckin' thing! Thanks a lot, asshole."

Connor shrugged, a smug smirk sneaking onto his lips."I can filter out that frequency if I need to."

Hank stared for a second, his expression going from blank unamusement to irritation. "Yeah, well, fuck you," he finally came out with. "You better hope he gets tired of that thing in the next five seconds or I'm kickin' the both of you out. Now, what's this other thing?"

The flat, wrapped gift in Connor's lap stared up at him menacingly. Was this really what he wanted to do? Sucking air in through his teeth, he forced himself to pick it up and hand it to Hank- but not without a lengthy, fumbling disclaimer.

"I um, wasn't sure what to get for you, Hank," he said quietly. "I wanted it to be special. But if... If you don't want... If it's too much, I'd understand."

Hank held the gift in his hands and waited for the kid to stop his stuttering, tilting his head in gentle concern. "Hey," he interrupted softly. "Whatever it is, it's good enough. So shut up, alright?"

Connor shut up and watched Hank tear off the packaging- less violently, this time.

Beneath the wrapping was a paper envelope. Hank raised an eyebrow at this and opened it up. The papers inside slid out. He leafed through them slowly.

Connor thought his thirium was going to freeze. His systems were whirring into overdrive, frantically trying to calculate the chance that Hank would reject his gift. It prompted his coolant to pump faster and harder throughout his body. But he watched anxiously, LED shining yellow, waiting for a response.

Hank started to nod slowly.

"...Are you sure about this, Connor?"

Connor opened his mouth to say something, but no commands were going through to his vocal processor. Was that a good thing or a bad thing…? Was he asking if Connor was sure because he wanted to go through with it, or because he didn't?

What told the android that everything was okay was Hank's eyes as he looked up. Beneath the scraggly mop of gray hair, peered bright, calm blue.

"You wanna be Connor Anderson for the rest of your life? When you could pick something way cooler, and not be stuck with this old sack of shit?"

"I think Connor Anderson sounds fine," the android laughed quietly. Connor was glad, so glad, that Hank saw the adoption forms and knew exactly what Connor wanted… and wanted the same thing. He didn't know if “father” was the right word for how he felt about Hank, but they were sure as hell family.

“C’mere, kiddo!" Hank grinned, suddenly grabbing Connor to pull him in for a bear hug. Surprised as he was, Connor struggled to put his arms around the man at first, but eventually found himself squeezing tight. Hank rocked him for a long moment, once or twice patting Connor’s back.

With a ruffle of Connor's perfectly combed hair, Hank let go. Both of them had teary eyes, and Hank had started to sniffle.

"Well, that goes right along with what I’ve got for you.” Hank quickly moved on, not wanting to dwell on the wetness in his eyes. He levered himself up from the floor and waved Connor over as he made his way down the hall.

Connor quirked his head curiously, following along and trying to use any data available to him to guess what Hank had gotten for him.

The door at the end of the hall slowly opened up. Connor peered over Hank’s shoulder. He'd never been in this room before, and he'd never seen Hank go in.

There was… almost nothing. The carpet, a medium gray, had been vacuumed recently. A cot made up with two pillows and a red quilt rested in the far corner of the room. The walls were plain, blank white. A lonely bookcase displayed empty shelves across from a nightstand with no lamp.

“Doesn't look like much, but I figured you could dress it up however you want.” Hank turned around, gesturing to the empty room, before stopping to face Connor. “Just don't put any holes in the walls before asking me.”

“Hank… this whole room is for me?” Connor was stunned. If he’d had any idea, he wouldn't have been nearly so nervous about the adoption papers. “Was this…?”

“Yeah, it was... I uh… Thanks for getting all those groceries for me.”

Suddenly it clicked. The night Connor had come home to Hank’s red, puffy eyes and temper coming out of nowhere. How he'd always said he had “shit to do” but didn't seem to be going anywhere or doing anything. How the lists he gave Connor were full of things that he probably didn't need. He'd been clearing this out.

“Oh, one more thing…” Hank padded over to the nightstand, which Connor had assumed was empty like everything else, and took something from the drawer. He handed the android a small packet. Inside was a set of keys to the house. Connor hadn't had any because there was no need; he was never here without Hank.

Connor held the keys in his hand, running his fingers over their jagged edges. Slowly, the corners of his mouth curled upwards. Artificial tears built up in his eyes again for no reason. “Thank you, Hank.”

“Thank _you_ , kid.”

Connor soon found himself wrapped in Hanks arms again, face pressed in tight to the warmth of his shoulder. The android sighed contentedly, his components idling down into a soft whirr. He had a family. He had a home. It was almost sad that no other Christmas would ever be better than this first one.

All too soon, Hank pulled away and wiped his eyes. He cleared his throat loudly. “Now why don't we start filling this place with all that shit you just got?”

Connor nodded, excitedly hopping over to the tree to gather up all of the new things that he could decorate his new room with.

Hank came over to help him, scooping everything out from under the branches- including the brightly colored package that Connor had left behind.

“Hey, there's one mo- from Gavin? What the fuck is this?”

Connor felt an imaginary weight settle on his thirium pump. Apprehension.

“...Oh. I forgot about it.”

“What the hell could that asshole want to give to you?”

Connor reluctantly took the package from Hank and stared at it. Well… he might as well find out. This time he wasn't quite as careful about not ripping the paper. Inside was a small cardboard box and card. He opened the card first. It was a generic Christmas card, a watercolor of a cardinal sitting on a snowy branch and the words “Happy Holidays!” scrolling across the top.

The inner part of the card had a message scrawled in Reed's quick, blocky handwriting.

“ _Dear Asshole,_

 _Since it’s Christmas I felt like I should make it up to you for the other day at work-_ ” Connor wondered which day that was- “ _so I bought you something I thought you might end up needing._

_Hope you like your plastic dick, plastic prick._

_Best,_

_Gavin Reed_ ”

Tossing the card aside, Connor reached into the tissue paper and nearly recoiled when he realized what it was: an underwear-like garment made mostly of adjustable straps with a large, explicitly phallic piece of silicone attached to the front.

A strap-on dildo.

Oh. _That_ day at work.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck?!” Hank’s face was already beet red. Connor's sensors were telling him all about the lieutenant's heart rate and blood pressure, but he was too distracted by the disgusting “gift” he was holding to mention it. Hank continued having his temper tantrum.

“That perverted goddamn motherfucking bastard!”

Connor dropped the dildo back into the box, wiping his hand on his pant leg as if he'd just been holding an actual phallus. He'd be lying to say he wasn't angry, disgusted, and a little bit hurt. But that was what Gavin wanted.

“Calm down, Hank. It's just Gavin being Gavin.”

“No, this is sexual fucking harassment! I’m not gonna let him get away with this shit, and neither should you!”

“I don't want to make things any worse, Hank.”

“Connor, you’re making things worse for yourself by not doing anything about it.”

“Hank, please.”

Big, round brown eyes stared up at Hank. Getting Gavin in trouble would only escalate things.

Hank huffed, falling back onto the couch with a deep frown. “Alright, alright,” he sighed, looking down at his hands in front of him. Connor noted that his blood pressure was still high. He somehow doubted Hank would let this slide. He'd have to get rid of Gavin’s present before Hank had a chance to show it to Captain Fowler.

“I'm sorry that douchebag did this to you on your first Christmas, Connor. It wasn't supposed to be like this,” Hank frowned. A troubled glaze coated his eyes, voice carrying a weight of defeat.

“He didn't ruin my Christmas, Hank,” Connor replied, shoving the box back under the tree to be dealt with later. “If anything, he just made me appreciate all of my other gifts more.”

“You're too nice for your own good, kid.” Hank smirked, leaning back in the couch to finally relax. “How about we forget about that asshole for now and watch the greatest Christmas movie ever made?”

Connor settled into the couch next to the the lieutenant. Sumo jumped up to squeeze between them. He ended up nearly pushing the other two to the edge of their seats.

“Which movie is that, Hank?”

Hank’s lips parted in a lopsided grin as he flipped on the TV and started scrolling through apps.

“ _Die Hard_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone step up for Gavin Reed's wild ride, starting next chapter! Now we're getting into the fun stuff. Thanks for sticking around, guys!
> 
> Also, it occured to me while posting this that it would have been cool to wait until December to start posting this fic and then post each chapter on the day it occurs. But then I probably would be way too tired of Christmas to write this. 
> 
> Oh well.


	4. Empty Threats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's life couldn't get any better right now. He loves his job, Hank has officially given him permanent residence in his home, he's going to be adopted, and apparently his coworkers like him, too. Though again, that's all except for Gavin Reed.
> 
> Hank decides that Gavin's little Christmas prank isn't going to go unpunished, throwing a wrench in Connor's plan to simply turn the other cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slightly longer wait! I took a little bit longer editing this chapter than the others, but hopefully it's still just as good. As always, thank you for all the support and wonderful, sweet comments that everyone's been making! It really does fuel me. 
> 
> Enjoy! <3

It was amazing how quickly Christmas faded away once all the presents had been opened and the messes cleaned up. It was almost as if it had never happened with the way some people took down their lights and threw their trees out on the street the next morning.

Connor, on the other hand, was still riding the Christmas high. New Year's was approaching and he didn't care about any countdowns or resolutions. Everything was holly and jolly, and he was starting to feel like part of the team at the DPD. On Monday, when he and Hank returned to work, he walked in wearing his new scarf and gloves, with his notebook tucked away in his jacket and the photo, snow globe, and plush dog in his arms to be set on his desk.

Officer Ackley squealed that Connor was wearing the scarf she'd gotten him when he walked through the door. Others who'd given him gifts were showered with thanks. He arranged everything on his desk neatly, at parallels and right angles, and sat down with a contented smile.

Hank had hung back at the car for some reason- said he was looking for something in the trunk, a gift he'd forgotten to give, perhaps.

**[!GetTime]**

**[2038-12-27 07:01:26.0936367]**

It would be a good idea to grab Hank his coffee before he came in, Connor decided. Standing almost before he had fully sat down, he took two wide steps across the bullpen- and stopped.

“Hank!” Brows pinched together, LED blinking yellow, Connor stared at the package Hank had in his hand as he walked in through the sliding glass door. He struggled to find names for the sudden tightness of his thirium pump. Anger. Anxiety. Dismay.

“Go siddown, Connor. I’ll take care of this.”

Hank had argued with him again last night about bringing the matter of Gavin’s “gift” to Fowler, but Connor just wanted to forget about the whole thing and make that small blemish on his otherwise perfect Christmas disappear.

He’d thrown the dildo in the kitchen trash, with some food scraps and coffee grounds on top for good measure, just to make sure Hank couldn't bring it in to show Fowler. Even if Hank tried to bring it up, the Captain wouldn't have much evidence to do anything about it.

Connor hadn’t expected him to be determined enough to fish the damned thing out.

Hank stepped right up to Fowler’s glass cube and rapped on the door to get the his attention. The Captain, who’d been watching the updates of files, cases, and news on the screen at the back of his office, threw his gaze over his shoulder to see just who was interrupting him.

The android chased Hank over, stepping in front of him before Fowler could get to the door. He kept his voice low and his expression stiff for fear of alerting anyone else in the precinct that anything was wrong. “Hank, I thought you weren’t going to say anything?”

“Well, I lied. Sorry, Connor.” The man just shrugged. He shrugged away all of Connor’s anxiety about this. Shrugged away any of the trust Connor had that they’d just forget this dumb, immature joke and refuse to give it any more attention than it deserved. “Reed’s always been an asshole, but I’m not letting him fuckin’ harass you like this.”

If Reed got in trouble, it would only mean drama. Connor just wanted to get along with everyone. If just one person was an asshole, so be it. If that one asshole had a reason to be an even bigger asshole, life might get difficult.

Connor’s memory called up the time Reed had punched him in the stomach, throwing off his regulator, simply for following his programming. It replayed the times Reed had pulled a gun on him: once for trying to make sure Ortiz's android didn't destroy itself, another for a snarky comment while he tried to find Jericho at the last minute, another to try to stop him- he’d nearly killed Connor that time.

If only he could snatch that stupid box out of Hank’s hands and throw it in the river where he’d never get it back.

Angrily, Connor opened his mouth to protest, but the words didn’t make it out in time. The door popped open behind him and Fowler’s voice put a stop to anything that was about to come out of his vocal processor.

“Here to take back everything you said the other night, Hank?”

“I wish.” Hank stepped into the office, not waiting to see if Connor followed.

At this point, the android wasn’t sure if he should go back to his desk and just wait things out. He didn’t want to be involved in this any more. It seemed like an enormous overreaction to something so childish. It had nothing to do with the precinct. Maybe Connor could convince Fowler that it wasn’t that bad, and Reed wouldn’t get so much as a warning.

Just before the door closed behind Hank, Connor grabbed it and squeezed through. The Captain sat back down at his desk, Hank standing before him, package in hand. Connor took his place a few steps behind Hank, arms crossed and his lips curled thin.

“What’s going on, Hank?” Fowler asked, leaning back in his chair. Connor had rarely been in this office and seen the Captain so relaxed. The holiday must have been good for him.

“Well, Connor got a little gift from Reed for Christmas,” Hank explained, aggressively dropping said gift on Fowler’s desk. “Why don’t you take a look?”

Fowler looked up at Hank with a brow raised. All of the calm drained from his face, replaced by the usual fed up pinch of his eyebrows and a deep sigh. If Reed had anything to do with it, it was going to be a headache. The Captain reached forward and opened the package. His lips creased back in a frown as he took the card that was on top first, read through with a deepening scowl, and looked down into the box. His eyes widened for a moment, nostrils flared. Connor’s pump constricted yet again. He was certainly angry.

“ _What_ in the _hell?_ ” Fowler looked down at the dildo, up to Hank with a disbelieving grimace, and over to Connor. “Connor, do you have any idea why the hell he’d give this kind of shit to you?”

Connor shifted uncomfortably, deliberating as long as he possibly could while he tried to find words that could explain the situation away. When he’d finally formulated a response, his voice was flat and robotic.

“Last week I had an… altercation with Detective Reed. He made a comment about my body not having ‘the right parts,’ so to speak. It irritated me, so I turned the comment back on him. I’m sorry, Captain. This is my fault. I should have known he’d retaliate somehow.”

“Your fault?!” The Captain slammed his fist in the desk, squinting at the android. Connor winced. “Hell, Connor, if Reed takes a dick joke that seriously he should go back to fuckin’ middle school. This is _not_ fitting of an adult man, _especially_ an officer of the law, and I will _not_ stand for this behavior in my precinct.” Every other word was punctuated by Fowler prodding the desk with his index finger.

“Please, Captain, I don’t think that this warrants punishment. It would only escalate the tension between myself and Detective Reed. I asked Hank not to bring it up, but-”

“But I did, ‘cause it’s not fuckin’ right. I’m not letting any schoolyard bullies push you around, kid.”

Hank’s protective gaze did nothing to alleviate Connor’s anxieties.

“Hank is right, Connor. It’s best to nip this kind of behavior in the bud.”

Connor's eyes nervously flitted out into the bullpen, scanning to see if anyone was watching. He scanned for Reed. He was just walking out of the breakroom, laughing at something Tina Chen had said, steaming coffee in hand. He looked up into the office, catching the eye of the android staring at him. Connor tore his gaze away before he could see Reed’s reaction.

“Excuse me, Captain, but maybe I should settle this with the Detective on my own.”

Fowler shook his head firmly.

“You leave him be- you know how he is. Now that I’ve seen this I’m obligated to do something about it. Go get to work.”

Connor stood staring at the Captain for a moment. A tense feeling filtered through his processors- the feeling of **[MISSION FAILED]** , but the guilt and shame was replaced by an apprehension creeping into his mechanical joints. He shrugged off Hank’s hand as the man tried to pull him out of the office.

“Come on, Connor. We’ll let Jeffrey teach that prick a lesson.”

But Hank was wrong. Connor knew Hank was wrong. He didn’t have to remember being punched in the regulator or looking down the barrel of a gun to know just how wrong Hank was.

Connor followed Hank out, keeping his head low so as not to catch Gavin's eye again. Did he know what they'd been in the office for?

It didn't seem so. By the time Connor and Hank returned to their desks, Gavin was propping his feet up on his own. He lazily turned on his terminal and started scrolling through cases, until a voice bellowed out from the Captain’s office.

“Reed! My office!!”

The detective scrambled to drop his feet from the furniture, looking up at Fowler with a scowl. Connor thought he heard some mumbles about “just fucking got here” and “what now”. He tried not to look as Gavin marched his way up to the office.

Connor turned up the sensitivity of his hearing while opening up his own terminal. The cases and notes scrolled by, but he wasn’t reading any of them. He had to know what Fowler said to Gavin- hopefully it would only be a slap on the wrist.

As the door closed behind Reed, Connor listened closely, his head tilted just slightly to better catch their voices.

“Did you have a good holiday, Detective Reed?” Fowler started. The question wasn’t a friendly one.

“Yeah, I did.” Gavin sneered. “Did you?”

“I did, Gavin. I did. And I was planning on having a great end of the year, too, until Lieutenant Anderson dropped this shit on my desk just now.”

Connor assumed Fowler was showing Reed the box, because there was a long pause before Reed responded. The android was trying not to look up into the office- it would be too obvious that he was eavesdropping.

“...A dick?”

“Yes, Gavin, a dick. And can you tell me why?”

“Not a clue, Captain.”

“Really? Because this card tells me you know exactly why.”

Connor looked out of the corner of his eye to see Fowler holding the card open in front of Reed’s face. Reed’s ears turned hot red.

“I was doing that plastic asswipe a favor!”

Fowler didn’t respond to that.

“Look, if that thing can’t take a joke-”

“That ‘ _thing’_ is your fuckin’ coworker, Reed! Why the hell would you think sending him sex toys is okay? You’re a grown fuckin’ man, for God's sake!”

“Hey, a month ago you didn’t give a flying fuck about androids! Now you’re fuckin’ buddy-buddy with him like he’s just another one of us, like nothing fuckin’ happened?!”

“I’ve had about enough of your attitude, Reed! You’re the only one who’s continuously harassed that poor kid since November, and that’s why you’re in my office right now. Shit’s changed, and you’ve just gotta accept it like the rest of us. You’re on patrol Friday and Saturday night.”

“ _What?I_ I was supposed to have New Year’s off! I had plans!” Reed’s voice was increasingly indignant. Connor heard frustration layered deep under anger- maybe with a pinch of distress with it.

“I don’t care if your plans were to visit your dying mother in Florida! You’re gonna be out there in a cruiser all night, and after that I better not catch you harassing Connor again or it’ll be a suspension next time!”

“I’m a detective, not a fuckin’ beat cop! You can’t-”

“I can, Gavin! Get out of my office.”

“I’m _not_ spending my New Year’s rounding up drunks-”

“Yeah, you are! _Get the fuck outta my office!”_

Connor turned his audio processor back down to its normal volume so the slamming of the door didn’t blow out his ears. He didn’t need to look to feel the Detective’s flaming eyes burning holes into the android as he stormed back to his desk and threw himself into his chair.

Hank, Connor, and Gavin all had to be at an interrogation in half an hour, the android remembered.

Connor’s LED briefly flashed red.

\----

It was a simple interrogation. The humans were always simple. Simple enough, at least, for the other human officers. Connor’s specialty was the androids; his colleagues had come to respect him for that. Well, except for Reed. But Reed was the exception to almost everything concerning Connor and the DPD.

For the entire forty-five minutes, Gavin stood in the corner and stared at Connor as if he was trying to pyrokinetically set the android on fire. Connor stood with his back against the wall, keeping his eyes trained on the window, through which Hank was doing all of the interrogating, and not giving Gavin so much as a glance. Two other officers stood in the room with them- Chris Miller and Carolyn McKenna- who acted as if nothing had ever happened. For them, nothing had.

“Let me get this straight. You killed the guy-”

“Android.”

“-because you thought he was going to capture you and… what, drain out your life force, you said?”

“Thirium is a limited resource! They’re going to find a way to use us as batteries before they run out, like in _The Matrix!_ I don’t understand why no one sees it?!”

Hank curled his lips in and nodded. The suspect was twitchy, skittish, and spoke with such conviction that she definitely believed everything she said. The lieutenant stroked at his beard for a moment. The suspect was thin and her eyes were sunken, shadowed in dark circles. She would occasionally tremble violently, and hugged her arms around herself to keep her body still.

A Red Ice addict if he’d ever seen one.

“Alright, I think we’re done here. Thanks for your time.” Hank lifted himself from the table and beckoned to Miller and McKenna to come take the suspect away.

“Wait- what’s gonna happen to me?!” she demanded, struggling against her cuffs as Chris slid in behind her to keep her still.

“That’s for the judge to decide, sorry.”

“You- you can’t! That thing was gonna kill me! They’re all gonna kill us someday, I had a right to defend myself!”

Without another word to the suspect, Hank exited the interrogation room and rejoined Connor and Gavin on the other side of the window. His arms were crossed. He didn’t seem very satisfied with the results. Boredom _,_ perhaps. It had been difficult to follow up what had been the most stressful and complicated investigations of his life with anything remotely interesting.

“That one’s pretty clean cut, I think,” he commented, watching as the woman weakly struggled against Chris and Carolyn, though she gave up fairly quickly and broke into sobs. Connor had long since shut down any sympathy he had for her. She wasn’t well, but she’d also killed an android in cold blood.

“Are we sure the android didn’t deserve it?” Gavin chimed in from the corner. For the first time since the start of the questioning, Connor looked over to him with a dark glare. Hank wasn’t having it either.

“No, Reed. The android was in stasis- she didn’t have a fuckin’ chance. Didn’t you read the case file? It’s about the easiest homicide I’ve ever had.” Reed scrunched his nose and snorted. Of course he’d read the file; he was just being an ass. Hank turned to go, motioning Connor to follow. “Come on Connor, let’s go write this report.”

Hank placed his hand on the ID-plate next to the door. It slid open, and Connor trailed behind him.

“Hey, Connor.”

The android looked back into the room. Reed was still standing against the darkened corner, one foot up against the wall. He beckoned to Connor with two fingers.

“C’mere a sec. I gotta talk to you.”

Connor’s LED flickered between red and yellow as he stood in the doorway. He didn’t want to make a scene by refusing, but he didn’t want to be in a room alone with Reed, either. Not when he knew that Reed was still infuriated about his punishment.

“Maybe later, Detective. I’ve got work to do,” he finally responded, as calmly as he could. He hoped “later” would never come.

“It’ll only take a second. Just wanna ask you about something.”

A strong hand clasped Connor’s shoulder- he looked over to see Hank looming in the doorway, staring Reed down with eyes that silently described every way he could destroy the smaller man.

“Leave him alone, Gavin. Whatever you’ve got to say, I’m sure it’s a waste of breath.” Internally, Connor winced. Hank wasn’t very tactful when it came to Gavin- or anyone, to be honest. But being a jerk back to him was only going to make things worse.

The automatic door beeped twice, upset that Connor had been standing in the way of its closing for so long. He calculated the chance of having a gun pulled on him, and then the chance that Gavin would try to catch him alone again if he refused. The first calculation was low, about 10.8%. Gavin wasn’t an idiot; to threaten or assault an android with a firearm was now as serious a crime as it was with a human. The second calculation, however, was quite high. Gavin wasn’t going let Connor get out of a verbal lashing for this. He might as well get it over with.

“It’s okay, Lieutenant. I’ll be there in a minute,” he decided, stepping back into the room and allowing the door to finally slide closed behind him. Hank must have opened his mouth to say something, because Connor heard something of an unintelligible grumble before the space between them was cut off. Connor stood just a step in front of the door, rigid and robotic, and glared at Gavin, who hadn’t budged.

Hank’s heavy footsteps faded away down the corridor. Connor and Reed were alone.

“So, I heard you didn’t like my gift?” Gavin finally said, breaking the uneasy silence.

“If I’m honest, I didn’t feel that it was very tasteful, Detective. I apologize.”

“‘Not very tasteful,’ huh?” Reed circled around the chairs in the middle of the room and over to the android slowly, menacingly. A wolf circling its prey. “You mean you couldn’t take a fuckin’ joke? Had to go running to daddy?”

Connor side-stepped around Reed as he started to get just a little too close. He narrowed his eyes, keeping them glued to the man as he tried to decide how best to deal with him. He wondered what Reed might do with another snappy comment back.

**[Simulation results: 86% chance of retaliation]**

**[Optimal Path: Don’t talk back]**

Connor ignored the suggestion. He could never just bite his tongue at Reed’s insults. He blamed Hank for that behavior.

“It was a rather childish joke,” he replied flatly, stopping in the middle of the room with his hands held stiffly behind his back.

“Yeah, childish- says the android that’s probably not even a year old.”

“About four months, one week, and five days,” Connor replied matter-of-factly. “Which says a lot more about your behavior than about mine.”

Sharp canines flashed at Connor, Reed baring his teeth and wrinkling his nose up in a snarl. Connor didn’t have a chance to step back before he found himself with a fist an inch from his eyes. Lightning mechanical reflexes snatched Reed’s wrist before the hit could land.

The next hook came quick from the left, but Connor grabbed that one too, leaving Gavin to struggle all he wanted, but to no avail. The android had both of his arms, and his strength was too much for the human.

Still, Connor’s LED was dancing in red.

“Listen up, you fuckin’ plastic punk!” Reed growled, his grey-blue eyes crazed with rage. He tried to shake free, but couldn't. “You cost me my fuckin’ New Year’s. You put a huge fuckin’ black mark on my record! I’m not letting you off easy this time!”

Connor stared at Gavin coldly, refusing to respond to his temper tantrum. His grip on the man’s wrists tightened. He searched Reed’s face trying to anticipate what came next. The android clearly had the upper hand, here. What could Reed-

Something hard collided with Connor’s face, knocking him back and into the wall; his grip came loose from Gavin’s wrists, and the world spun.

**[ERROR: LEFT OPTICAL UNIT DISCONNECTED]**

Connor opened his eyes to a world half cloaked in black. The left side of his vision flickered in and out as his eye repeatedly tried to reconnect, small, disjointed sparks of information dotting the void it left.

“You really wanna know why I hate you so much?”

The stumbling Connor, struggling to click his biocomponent back into place, was too disorientated to fight back when Reed took his shirt up in his fist and shoved him against the cold, hard brick wall. Reed had a faint red mark on his forehead where he’d slammed it into Connor’s plastic skull.

“It’s because your creepy robot ass could replace half the fucking precinct and the state wouldn’t give one damn about any of us if it meant saving them money. And you wouldn’t give a shit either, would you? We all had to claw our way up to the top and you just walk off a fuckin’ assembly line and take our fuckin’ jobs-”

“None of that is true!” Connor protested, wrapping his hands around Gavin’s wrist, desperately trying to pull him off. Hank must be getting suspicious by now, but Connor didn’t want him to come back. He couldn’t see this. Both he and Gavin would be handing in their badges if he did.

Gavin smirked. The malevolence in the twist of his lips made Connor squirm. The missing half of his vision continued to bring up errors as the circuits of his eye and its socket just barely touched, connecting and disconnecting constantly. He couldn’t start his preconstruction to determine the best way out without errors blocking the way, and he couldn’t see a good chunk of the room, either.

“Too bad I couldn’t have gotten you like this in the archive room.” Gavin’s laugh was cruel and callous. “You’d be in the fuckin’ scrap yard now if I had, and all your little android friends, too.”

He grew closer to Connor, pressing him against the wall with his entire body. The android’s arms were stuck between himself and the man’s chest, and his legs too close to kick. His LED spun, spun, spun in bright crimson. He couldn’t hurt Reed. He didn’t _want_ to hurt Reed. It would only make things worse.

“Let go, Gavin,” he demanded, hissing between his teeth.

“I’m gonna teach you a lesson first.”

Reed’s free hand slipped between them, down, down until his fingers reached between Connor’s legs. There was nothing there, nothing to grope or abuse, but the unpleasant pressure against his plates made Connor shrink back against the wall. The meaning behind the disgusting gesture was still there, and it made his components run hot and thirium freeze to know that’s what Gavin intended. If he had a stomach, Connor imagined he would have felt sick.

Gavin grinned at the android's obvious discomfort.

“You _are_ a fuckin’ Ken doll! How about that!”

“S-stop it!” Connor swallowed hard. He couldn’t control the bright blue that flushed through his face as his body tried to cool down the heat of his central processor. This couldn’t be happening. He’d known Reed would retaliate somehow- he’d calculated it a dozen times. Verbal abuse, more cruel pranks, physical assault, maybe. But not this… touching Connor’s body as he pleased. “Stop it!”

Reed completely ignored him. He pressed harder and leaned in so his lips hovered next to Connor’s ear, on his blind side. The android craned his neck away, turning his head as far as he could to try to see what Gavin was doing, but his field of view was too narrow. Reed’s voice fell to a dark whisper.

“Stay the fuck outta my way like I told you, asshole, or next time I'll show you some real fuckin’ harassment.”

And then Gavin finally let go, ripping his arm from Connor's grip, and stalked out of the room without another word. The hand scanner blipped as he left, door sliding open, then smoothly closed.

Connor's programs lagged behind, trying desperately to process what had just happened. He distantly felt himself slide down against the wall, his legs buckled beneath him without any command to stay standing. The floor was made of concrete, and it had many pot marks and holes, he noted. There were scuffs from his own shoes just now, which Connor stared at blankly.

It took a moment for his focus to return to the repeated error messages about his optical component, and how half of his field of vision was missing. It was a struggle to pull any resources out of processing everything and put them back into motor control. Eventually, Connor managed this. He slowly lifted his hands to his face and maneuvered his optical biocomponent carefully back into its socket where it made a satisfying _click_.

**[LEFT OPTICAL UNIT CONNECTED]**

**[RECALIBRATING…]**

The left side of Connor’s vision fuzzed back into view after a few flashing bars of static. His pupil dilated and shrank until it found the perfect setting, his graphics processors adjusting the color levels until they matched the world on his right. Connor wiped at the left side of his face, and looked at his hand. Fortunately, Gavin’s headbutt had just knocked the component loose; there was no thirium leakage.

After slowly standing, the android took a moment to compose himself, staring into his reflection in the window to fix his dishevelled hair and make sure the skin around his eye had reactivated. His components were returning to their normal temperatures, and his face was no longer flushed. Everything looked normal, like nothing had happened.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Okay. He could go back now.

Connor was still shaken when he returned to his desk, but tried to walk with the same purpose and pride as he always did. He would just avoid Reed completely from now on, that’s all. No more talking back. Just ignore him if he tried to start anything. Nothing else would happen.

In the back of his head, Connor knew that was wrong.

“So, what’d that bastard have to say?” Hank asked, completely breaking away from his work as Connor settled back in his chair.

“Nothing,” the android replied mechanically. “Just empty threats.”

He opened up the case files on his terminal and dove straight into them, his brown eyes focused intently on the scrolling text. Hank leaned forward over his desk and squinted at the android. He cocked his head, his lips pressed in curiously.

“You okay there, kiddo?”

“I’m fine, Hank. It’s nothing.” Connor didn’t look up from the terminal. He was starting to sound irritated, though he didn’t mean to. He just didn’t want to talk about it. If he didn’t talk about it, it would go away.

Thankfully, Hank decided to leave him alone. It only took a second longer of staring for the man to go back to his work without a word.

Minutes went by and Connor thought he felt a phantom twinge at his back, like someone was watching him. Sure enough, when he glance over his shoulder, Gavin Reed was glaring at him with his best shit-eating grin. He sure was proud that he’d managed to intimidate the android specifically built to be stronger, faster, and smarter than him. And Connor couldn’t do anything to knock that stupid grin off his face.

It made him so angry, he nearly wanted to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for reading! I truly appreciate it, and I read every comment. I'll be trying to respond to them more often if I can!


	5. Karma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank, Connor, and Gavin are all required on a case the day before New Year's Eve; a gruesome murder that's left five dead. As Connor learns about the attacker, though, he can't help but feel a bit of sympathy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a warning, this chapter includes blood, death, domestic abuse, and gun violence. If you're okay with that, go ahead and keep reading! Enjoy!

**[2038-12-30 19:23:07.6393700]**

**[7936_East_Lafayette_St,_Detroit,_Michigan_-43.789,_85.007]**

Connor stamped the memory with all the necessary information, starting a new file as soon as they arrived on the scene. It helped him keep things organized in his head to separate memories of cases and specific events from one another.

When Hank and Connor arrived at the slightly run-down two-story home, uniformed officers swarmed the scene like ants, placing yellow evidence markers and holographic police tape everywhere. Hank, Connor, Reed, and Ben Collins had all been called. This was going to be a big case.

They first approached Detective Collins, who had arrived at the scene fifteen minutes earlier. Collins, Connor noted, wasn't quite suited for this kind of task. He had an aversion to gore and a sensitive stomach, which made cases like this difficult for him to handle. He stood outside the house with his clipboard, directing the uniformed cops about their duties and taking updates from anyone investigating inside. The scene reminded Connor of his first Case with Hank, though this one was much more deadly.

"Hey, Ben," Hank greeted the portly detective, who looked up from his clipboard and waved weakly at Hank. "Y'alright?"

"Well, it's not pretty in there..." Collins sighed, pressing his lips back into a grimace. "We've got five dead, three in the living room, two upstairs. One elderly woman, identified as Nancy Grieves. One middle aged woman, Alycia Simmons. One middle aged man, Jerome Simmons. Two teenage boys, Hunter and Hayden Simmons. No suspects so far. The neighbors reported shots fired at around seven PM. But by the time anyone got here..."

Collins gestured to the house with his clipboard, indicating the bloody scene inside. He breathed heavily in, then out, as if a great weight was pressing against his chest.

"Has anyone spoken to the neighbors yet?" Connor asked.

"Gavin went to talk to them, started with the house on the right, they're the ones who called. He'll be making the rounds."

A nearly imperceptible wince crossed Connor's face at the mention of Gavin's name. The back of his neck prickled with static. Nothing had happened between himself and the detective between Monday and today, but that was only because Connor had been doing everything in his power to avoid the man. He hoped their paths didn't cross much during this investigation.

Grunting his acknowledgement, Hank looked to the open door of the house, then to Connor. "Alright. Well, let's get a move on, kid."

Connor nodded and followed Hank into the house, the steps up to the porch creaking under their feet as they entered.

The scene was gruesome. Blood spattered on the walls, on the floors, even the ceiling. The house would have been quaint once, decorated with French country style furniture and many happy pictures of the family hanging on the walls. Three victims lay strewn across the living room as they walked in, peppered with more bullet holes than Connor wanted to count. They were presumably Alycia, Jerome, and one of the sons. They were crowded on the far side of the room, Jerome's body at the forefront as if he'd been trying to protect his wife and son.

"Holy shit..." Hank breathed, his hands going to his hips as he took the sight in.

Something crunched beneath Connor's feet as he stepped inside. He moved back, careful not to crush any more evidence, and leaned down. Cartridge shells absolutely littered the floor, the shining brass casing reflecting the softly glowing lamps sitting on the side tables next to the couch. He picked one up and his robotic eyes scanned its size and shape, a database scrolling through the side of his vision until the correct match was found.

"5.56×45mm NATO ammunition. The attacker was using an assault rifle," Connor noted out loud. It was likely the formerly popular AR-15, he thought. Where the attacker had gotten one was a mystery; they and other rifles like them had been outlawed for fifteen years, except for use by the military and law enforcement.

"No shit. No one's got a pistol that can fire like this," Hank responded, kneeling down next to one of the bodies and peering at it closely. It was likely Jerome, who had been a ruddy, red-headed man with a thick, equally red beard and an exceptional physique for his age. "I'll take the downstairs. You go upstairs and check out the other two."

"Got it."

Connor set to investigating the rest of the house while Hank took the living room. He was careful to peak around the corners before entering any room; though no one had encountered a would-be suspect, they could certainly still be hiding somewhere- and he'd learned his lesson about casually opening doors during investigations when he'd been shot in the shoulder on top of Stratford Tower.

Hank had told him to investigate the second floor, but as he circled back around to the main hall via the kitchen, he noticed the cellar door was swung wide open. The light was on... Someone had either been down there just before the shooting, or an officer had gone down to investigate.

"Has anyone looked through the basement?" Connor called out to Hank.

"Uh- Hey! Anyone looked in the basement?!" Hank relayed out to Collins.

"Not more than a quick sweep!" Collins shouted.

Connor looked down the stairway. It wasn't very well lit, even with the bright, bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. All he could see from here was the water-damaged concrete floor, which had several layers of paint chipping away.

"I'm going down!" he shouted out to Hank, who replied back with an affirmative grunt.

The air was damp and cold as Connor descended into the cellar, an unfinished concrete box full of old furniture, extra storage, and junk haphazardly thrown wherever it could fit. A tool bench sat to the left of the stairs, a decrepit couch to the right, a freezer around the back.

What Connor was interested in, though, were the phantom stains across the floor, the couch, the old tables and chairs. All blue blood, long faded away. Some stains were almost a year old, one only a day. There had been an android living here since before the revolution, and it had taken a constant beating. Connor narrowed his eyes and his regulator quickened the pace of his thirium pump, which felt like it was constricting at the thought of an android left behind, failing and alone.

Around the corner, near the freezer, was a black metal cabinet. Its thick double doors were spread wide open. A fresh print of thirium, not even completely evaporated, was on the inside of the right. Keys hung from the lock on its face. Inside, several models of hunting and assault rifles were leaned up against a rack, two shelves of ammunition sitting above them. Connor recognized the two assault rifles as being illegal models; it seemed Jerome had been a collector.

The scene was starting to come together in Connor's head. He scanned the keys stuck in the cabinet door for prints, returning more fresh thirium, and many repeated prints from one human. He sampled the thirium, gingerly placing it against his tongue; it was a model BV500, #639-005-547. He could no longer connect to records to show when the model had been bought, sold, or traded- his access to Cyberlife's databases had been cut off when he became deviant. He knew, though, that the model was manufactured to appear female and of East Asian descent. They were meant mostly for housekeeping, but they weren't incredibly advanced in their other abilities. They were also known for a history of malfunctioning biocomponents, which was why they were discontinued quite quickly.

This one seemed to have survived a long time, but anger at the android's unreliability may have been a motivation for the family to abuse it. Regardless, they were likely terrible people for doing so, Connor thought. A sinister thought snaked its way through his wires: perhaps the Simmons family had deserved this.

No, no, that was wrong... No one had the right to shoot a person down the way these people had been. This was too brutal. They should have been brought to justice, not death.

Connor noticed a speck of faint red light reflecting on the metal of the cabinet- his own LED. He had to get back to his investigation and stop thinking about this. He couldn't even be sure of what had happened yet.

The scratched up, sagging sofa was covered in faded thirium. He suspected that this was where the android was kept when she wasn't needed. The trace amounts of blue blood, about ten months old, were from the same model and serial number. Connor's mind started to wander back to the abuse. How long had she been deviant for? Had she known about the revolution? Had she known she was free?

A new set of footsteps and a painfully familiar voice drifted in from the ground floor. Connor turned his attention to listen.

"...didn't see anything. Everyone who was home stayed inside when they heard the shots, couple of screams."

"Smart. But that doesn't help us." Hank shifted his weight from one foot to the other, making the floorboards above Connor creak.

Connor started making his way up the stairs to join the conversation.

"No shit. Next door said they thought the family had an android, but hadn't seen it for over a month. They thought it went to one of the temporary housing places."

"They did have an android. A model BV500, serial number 639-005-547," Connor cut in, looking to Hank rather than to Gavin as he stepped into the living room with them. Reed wrinkled his nose in disgust at Connor's presence.

"Oh yeah? How’d you figure that out, Sherlock?" he snapped.

"There's trace amounts of thirium all over the basement, dating from roughly ten months ago to less than an hour ago. I found the most recent on the keys and door of the gun cabinet. It appears that the attacker was consistently abused. She somehow managed to steal the keys to the cabinet and shot down the family with an assault rifle."

Reed hissed, looking over the bloodied corpses and ammo shells. "Crazy fuckin' androids... Tell me again why we let you on the force?"

"Hey, that's enough!" Hank set a protective foot forward. "Didn't your chat with Fowler the other day teach you anything?"

Gavin only rolled his eyes and snorted. "Yeah, that your android's a whiny fuckin' bitch that can't take a joke."

"Jesus Christ, Reed! This is not the time for your petty bullshit!"

Connor stood awkwardly as the argument grew more heated. The way Reed talked about him made him angry, but he'd vowed to himself not to provoke Gavin again after what had happened in the viewing room on Monday, so he added nothing to their shouting. As much as he appreciated Hank being so protective of him, he also wished that the lieutenant would just let things go; every time he got in a jab at Reed, Reed would take it out on Connor. The other officers in the house likewise avoided the yelling, skirting around Hank and Gavin with as wide a berth as they could. After a few more exchanges, Connor slipped away and went upstairs to check on the other two bodies.

There were three bedrooms and a bath on the second floor. One was the master bedroom, another was shared by the two boys, and the third and smallest bedroom Connor assumed was for Nancy Grieves, perhaps the mother of one of the parents. The bodies were in the grandmother's room, tangled in each other's arms and spattered in one another's blood as they huddled for dear life. In spite of the dark thoughts he'd had earlier, Connor's pump slowed to an uncomfortably sluggish speed that made it feel weighty. This family had loved each other. They protected each other. But did that excuse what they'd done to the BV500...?

Connor distantly noted that the shouting downstairs had quieted. Ben Collins had interrupted with an exasperated complaint.

Connor examined the floor. There were bloody footprints over the damask-pattern carpet- a size eight women's shoe. The tracks showed they were part of the standard issue Cyberlife uniform for androids of the BV500's era. They tracked into the room, around the room, back out... But not back down the stairs.

An electric shock hit Connor's pump- that meant the attacker was probably still here. He should have known; the time between the shooting and the DPD's arrival was too short for her to have gotten far. Connor dialed up his hearing, turned off his breathing protocol, and slowly pulled out the pistol that hung from his waist.

Quietly, with all resources focused on his own precise movements and processing the world around him, Connor backed out of the room and followed the prints into the master bedroom. He lead with his pistol, leaning into the room first before stepping inside.

The prints stopped.

Against the bed leaned a pair of short boots, their soles caked in human blood. The attacker had been smart enough to finally take them off after realizing they'd lead the police right to her. Along with them was the assault rifle, which had smears of thirium all over it.

The room was freezing; the window across from the door gaped open. There was no screen in it- someone could have jumped out. Cautiously, Connor paced over to it and peered outside. There was no blue blood on the sil, and a fall from this height would damage a housekeeping android badly enough that he didn't think it could have reasonably made a break for it. No, this was a distra-

An ear splitting cry- both bestial and robotic- peaked Connor's audio processors. He swirled around and without hesitation fired a shot at the figure barreling towards him from the burst-open closet. It hit, the android reeled back, holding her sagging shoulder as blue blood blossomed from the wound.

"CONNOR?!" Hank's panicked shout echoed up the stairway from the living room. He barked out orders to the rest of the officers in the house. "Everyone stay where you are- except you, Chris, you're coming with me and Reed!"

The android stared up at Connor with frenzied black eyes. Her skin was patchy, showing the white plastic beneath in many places. Her uniform was filthy and torn, and in several areas her casing was cracked, exposing the buzzing wires and flowing thirium underneath. As she spoke, her voice modulated up and down, static then clear.

"Y-you're an android?!" she exclaimed, words crackling. Connor didn't answer; he was too focused on what the Simmonses had done to her, though he kept his gun trained straight between her eyes even as she fell on one knee. "P-please, hel-"

Rushed footsteps stampeded up the stairs, and in seconds Hank had charged headlong into the room with his own pistol pulled out. Gavin and Chris Miller followed him.

"Connor! What's-"

Hank looked between Connor, who hadn't so much as looked at the other three officers, and the android slumping in front of him. Everyone was silent for what seemed like minutes, but was only seconds. Four guns pointed at the android. Connor could see the panic overwhelming her systems. Her LED was bright red and spinning violently.

 _ <<Don't move. Don't speak.>> _ Connor sent to her. He rarely used wireless communication; he rarely could, since his interactions were almost exclusively with humans. He hoped he could use it to get the BV500 to come quietly.

"Don't shoot," Connor said aloud to the humans. Only Hank and Chris Miller lowered their weapons slightly, but they were still wary. All three officers spread themselves around the room until the the suspect was surrounded.

 _ <<What's going to happen to me?!>> _ the android sent, along with a rush of emotions that Connor tried to block out. He couldn't keep them all out, though; the electric surge of fear made its way through the connection, making his LED blink yellow and his head twitch slightly to the side. The android's stress levels, he calculated, were at 94%.

_ <<We'll talk about that later.>> _

_ <<What do you mean?! I-I had to do it! I had to, they were, they->> _

_ <<I know.>> _

**[Target Stress Levels: 89%]**

Gavin's trigger finger twitched, and he snarled. "The fuck do you mean don't shoot?! This thing just gunned down five people!"

The android's head spun to look at Gavin, her short black hair whipping around and sticking against the artificial tears running down her face. He lips quivered, her breathing protocol spiraled out of control until she appeared to be hyperventilating.

**[Target Stress Levels: 92%]**

"Gavin-" Hank growled.

"Just don't shoot! I'm trying to get her to come with us, calmly," Connor snapped, lowering his own gun only a bit despite his words. She could still charge him, though it wouldn't do her any good.

 _ <<Don't listen to him. He's not going to hurt you..>> _ Connor purposely lied, hoping the BV500 would buy it. Playing down Gavin's violence could make her trust them a little more. _ <<I know you've been hurt. I know you wanted to get out of here, and it seemed like the only choice. What's your name?>> _

_ <<...Phoebe.>> _

_ <<Do you have any other weapons on you?>> _

_ <<No.>> _

Phoebe's breathing started to slow. She looked back to Connor, seeming to find comfort in the other android. She watched his blue LED. Hers flickered red and yellow.

**[Stress Levels: 84%]**

"She's not dangerous anymore. The AR is against the bed over there, and she has no other weapons," Connor informed everyone, finally straightening himself from the offensive stance he'd been holding. He did not put his pistol back into its holster, and neither did anyone else.

"Phoebe, I want you to put your hands on the back of your head and stand up slowly. Don't make any sudden movements," he instructed calmly, switching back to verbal communication. Chris Miller put his gun away and unhooked the handcuffs from his belt. Phoebe followed the orders quietly, though she struggled to reach her left arm up, as that was the side that had a bullet in its shoulder. Her wobbling legs gradually lifted her up from the floor. She watched Connor's deep brown eyes the whole time, and he watched hers. They were dark, and sad, and scared.

**[Stress Levels: 78%]**

Hank finally holstered his gun and looked to Chris, jerking his head towards Phoebe to signal him to cuff her. The officer nodded and stepped behind the android. His hands reached up to grab her wrists, more roughly than Connor wished he would.

**[Stress levels: 98%]**

Phoebe flinched, violently jerking herself out of Chris's grasp. He struggled to get her back under his control, but she cried out and ripped herself away.

A shot fired. Phoebe screamed.

She dove towards the window and manically scrambled for the sil.

"Don't fucking move, bitch!" Gavin shouted, preparing to fire again.

"Hey!" Hank rushed at Phoebe, grabbing her around the waist just as she started to slip through the window. She kicked and screeched, smacking Hank square in the face with her foot. Hank tumbled back with a shout. There was another bang of gunfire as Hank fell out of the way Gavin's shot, which just grazed the android’s side.

 _ <<Phoebe! Don't->> _ In slow motion, Connor jumped forward to grab her from the window, to send to her that it was alright- but was too late.

She pushed her way through and Connor could only watch as she fell head-first down onto the brick patio behind the house. There was a loud crunch, a spatter of blue blood, and then her LED flickered out.

"Shit-!" Connor hissed. He slipped himself feet first through the window, prompting a shout from Hank, which he ignored. He landed upright with cat-like grace and only a small shock to his legs, then crouched down to inspect the broken body. Pieces of shattered plastic were scattered about the patio, shining in the snow. Phoebe's eyes stared upwards lifelessly- just two cameras in a broken, skull-shaped shell. Her LED was colorless and still.

Phoebe was a murderer. She'd ruthlessly killed five people. They hadn't stood a chance once she got into that cabinet. But they'd pushed her that far. She'd been abused for her entire short life, locked in a basement, and kept from her freedom. She'd deserved a chance in court at least... hadn't she? Connor stared blankly at the empty face of the BV500. Hadn't she?

"Connor, what the fuck is with you and pulling stunts like that?!"

Connor quickly stood up and turned around to see Hank panting as he sprinted towards him from around the front of the house. The android cast his gaze back down to Phoebe.

"Sorry, Hank..." he replied quietly, though he wasn't sure if he was. He wasn't sure about much of anything right now.

"That thing dead?" came a callous voice as Gavin rounded the corner with Chris Miller.

"Yes, _she_ is," Connor growled, leering at Reed.

"No thanks to you," Gavin scoffed, sending a glance to Chris as if trying to gain his agreement. Smartly, Chris stayed out of it. "Bet you were trying to let that crazy bitch get away."

Connor's eyes widened, then narrowed in disgusted dismay. He cocked his head questioningly at Reed. He might sympathize with Phoebe... but she had killed five people. "Why would I do that?"

Gavin's lips parted in his usual toothy sneer, arms crossed over his chest tightly and chin lifted high. Connor wanted to shy away from his harsh grey eyes, the ones that stared at him like a hungry wolf's and made his heart race, but he kept them locked with his own. "Oh, you're telling me that you _don't_ care more about your robot buddies than about humans? Certainly didn't look that way on TV."

Before Connor's sudden rage could reach his mouth, Hank stepped between him and Reed. He towered over Gavin, though that didn't make the smaller man any more afraid of him.

"Reed- get the fuck outta here! We'll handle the clean up."

The detective glowered at Hank for a tense moment. The lieutenant glared back at him, an unmoving stone wall, until Gavin tore his eyes away and huffed. He shoved his hands into his pockets, snow crunching beneath his feet as he wordlessly walked back around to the front of the house.

Once he'd gone, Connor turned back to Phoebe's mangled body and stared for a long time, processing his anger, fury, hurt. He didn't see Hank wave Chris away, or step up next to him.

"Connor."

The android startled at his name, though it barely showed in his expression as he his head swiveled to face the sound.

"Why don't we deal with this mess and get out of here?" Hank asked, looking down at the mess of blue and white, then back at Connor. "You look like you need a break."

Connor nodded slowly, pulling his processing power away from the confused tangle of emotions he was caught in. He swallowed heavily, and prepared himself for the rest of a long night.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for the comments, kudos and support! It always makes me smile! <3


	6. New Year's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor, still wracked with guilt and rampant emotions from the last case, tries to share a quiet New Year's Eve with Hank.

The car stuttered into idle, its gasoline engine's rumbling low and comforting. Connor was content to let it lull him into a quiet trance and let his thoughts wander. He watched a crow picking through the overflowing garbage can on the other side of the parking lot, but didn't really register it.

Chicken Feed closed early on New Year's Eve, so he and Hank found themselves sitting in the drive-thru of a Taco Bell after a long day at the precinct. Hank's fingers drummed on the outside of the car door impatiently; the car in front of them had been sitting at the window for three full minutes already, and the bags of food just kept coming. Connor could see that the car was packed, five people shoulder to shoulder, all rowdily shouting and laughing. Through the open window on Hank's side, traces of marijuana smoke drifted through. The android didn't bother to comment that he and Hank should check to see that the driver wasn't under the influence.

"The hell is taking so long?" Hank grumbled under his breath. He hadn't eaten for eight hours. Connor had noted that the hungrier most humans were, the more irritable they got. Sometimes he was thankful that he wasn't human.

Connor continued to look hazily out of the passenger side window. He felt sluggish, his processes constantly going back to Phoebe and the Simmonses. All he could think of was Phoebe's filthy clothes, her broken skin, the cracks in her arms… The absolute fear that coursed through their connection. It was like Stratford Tower, when he’d connected to that android's memory. But this time he'd had a chance to help, and failed.

The SUV in front of them finally pulled away and Hank pulled up after them, looking up into the window expectantly. The exchange was quick and simple, both Hank and the cashier ending with New Year's wishes. Hank put his drink into the cupholder and handed the warm, greasy paper bag to Connor, who took it into his lap.

"Finally, I'm starving! Those guys sure had the friggin' munchies..." Hank complained, pulling out of the drive-thru and back onto the main road. "Hey, hand me my gordita?"

Connor obediently unwrapped Hank's meal halfway and handed it to him. The lieutenant took one huge bite and gave a garbled "thanks" while chewing. For a long moment after that, neither of them said anything. Hank drove with one hand while he ate his gordita. Connor watched the street lights marching by, their endless white glow blurring into one continuous streak.

_You're an android?!_

Connor closed his eyes, bringing up the memory of that face. He replayed the night... The bodies in the living room, the grandmother and grandson holding each other upstairs, bloody and broken, shot to a near pulp. His head fell back against the seat, brows knitting deeper.

"Hey, aren't you gonna tell me I'm eating a heart attack or something?"

Blinking his eyes open, Connor turned to Hank, whose messy beard was made even messier by the flecks of cheese his meal was leaving. A weak smirk flickered across the android's lips, but his eyes fell back to the dashboard.

"Conna, you 'en starin' inna space ahl day," Hank forced out between bites of gordita. He swallowed. "That case still bothering you?"

Connor frowned deeply, staring down at the paper bag in his lap and counting the ridges around its open edge. Was he upset about the case... or was it something else? The gore hadn't bothered him. "I'm... not sure. It doesn’t make sense. I wasn't bothered by Ortiz, or any of the other violent cases we've had."

"When we took on Ortiz you were a different person."

"I wasn't a person. I was a machine," Connor mechanically correct him, feeling almost guilty for the time before his deviancy.

Hank shot Connor a stern glare. "Shut up with that crap. You were in there somewhere."

But it was true, whether either of them liked it or not. There was a time when Connor didn't have an independent bone in his body, and his software drove everything he said and did.

"Anyway... You're gonna have cases like that. Things that bother you and you don't know why. Hell, things that don't bother you even when they should. Things that stick with you. Part of the job," Hank continued as they rolled up to a stoplight. Normally he'd take a chance to eat more of his meal, but instead he just set it back in the bag. His eyes turned to Connor, watching him carefully. Connor looked out of the corner of his eye at the lieutenant, then back out the window, tensing in his seat. He felt like he was being picked apart. Should he just come out with it? All of these emotions felt like they'd spill out of him at any moment if he didn't.

"...It was Phoebe. She really seemed... scared." The words were heavy on Connor's tongue as he pushed them out of his mouth. "She was abused for her whole life. Those people trapped her there even after the revolution, when she was supposed to be free. But..."

The car jerked as Hank put his foot back on the accelerator at the changing of the light. The engine revved as it picked up speed.

"But...?" Hank repeated, focusing his eyes back on the road, though all of his attention was still on Connor.

"But she killed those people. I... I don't know. I know she was a murderer, but it seems wrong to call her that when she was pushed that far, and after what that family did to her. She was trying to escape."

Hank nodded, taking in a drawn out breath through his nostrils, and gradually letting it out. His lips were curled in, hands tight on the wheel, as if he was thinking very hard about something. Connor waited, afraid to even breath, for Hank's response. He hoped that he hadn't said something wrong.

"What those people did to her was disgusting," Hank finally said firmly. "But that doesn't make what she did any better. That old woman, those two kids... How much do you think they had to do with it?"

Connor's eyes lowered, nearly closed, as he listened.

"What I'm saying is, they were both wrong. And two wrongs don't make a right."

He couldn't wrap his head around it, no matter how many times he parsed the words. No one had been right. Everyone had been wrong. Whose side should he be on, then?

"But what else was she supposed to do? Just let them beat her?"

"Not shoot up a whole family?" Hank replied. "I don't have any answers for you, Connor. Sorry."

If only there had been a way to know. A way for her to contact someone on the outside. Connor narrowed his eyes as he recognized this feeling. Guilty. Connor felt guilty that they hadn't been able to save her before it all happened, even though he had no reason to.

The world outside was dark and cold, snow beginning to flutter down in great clumps as they entered Hank's neighborhood. He turned the wipers on, though they wouldn't need them in a minute. He let the android steep in his thoughts until they pulled into the driveway, gravel crackling under the wheels of the car. The world was suddenly quiet as he turned off the ignition and the engine died.

Hank sat watching Connor, eyes soft with sympathy. He reached out to grip the android’s shoulder with one of his warm, strong hands.

"There's a lot of shitty people in the world,” he said softly. “All we can do is... try not to stoop to their level. Let karma do its thing. They'll get what's coming to them."

Then Hank took his food from Connor and got out of the car. The door slammed shut loudly, rocking the vehicle. Connor spent a moment longer sitting in the quiet, breathing slowly and staring into nothingness. His thoughts felt bogged down, desperately trying to solve the riddle: if no one was right, and everyone was wrong, why did he want so badly for Phoebe to live? Why did he hate that family so much more?

"Connor, you coming?" Hank shouted from the open door as he struggled to keep Sumo inside.

Oh, he should go in, shouldn't he?

\---

The night passed slowly, quietly. Connor sat on the floor absently petting Sumo, who rolled and stretched excitedly under his fingers, tongue lolling out. Hank flipped through streams of New Year’s countdowns, some in Detroit, some in New York City. All seemed to bore him.

_“Up next we've got Taylor Swift performing in Times Square-”_

“Christ, she still exists?” Hank snorted.

“She's only 48, Hank.” The word “only” was relative. Connor could hardly imagine what 48 long years felt like.

“What? You a fan?”

“No, I just looked it up.”

“Good. I couldn't stand her when she was relevant.” Hank flipped to something different, a concert in Detroit where a pop star was badly covering some Motown classics.

Connor watched from the floor, and was surprised to see some blue specks glowing in the crowd. Androids who hadn't taken out their LEDs, like him. Whenever the camera passed over them, they were smiling, eyes bright with light.

It made Connor smile. They were happy.

“What's got you so cheery?”

Connor looked over to see Hank reflecting his smile, tilting his head curiously at the android’s sudden shift in mood. Even after their talk earlier, he’d been detached and spacey.

“Those androids. They're really enjoying themselves.”

Hank looked at the TV, regarding some of the cheering androids with a hum. “Yeah, I guess so.”

It was rare this soon after the revolution to see a large group of androids outside of the housing camps, let alone having a good time- and in the middle of a crowd of humans, at that. It stoked the tiny embers of hope in Connor's heart that humans and androids could live in peace with each other some day, in spite of the case he'd had yesterday. In spite of people like Detective Reed.

After a brief silence, both human and android staring at but not really watching the show, Hank spoke up. “Hey, question.”

Connor turned to Hank again, this time making the effort to pull himself up onto the couch so they could chat more easily.

“Yes?”

“How come most of you guys take the little light out of your head, but some don't?”

“Our LED?” Connor cocked his head. It was an odd question, but a good one. ”Well, taking it out allows easier integration with humans. You wouldn't be able to tell someone's an android unless they were injured, or removed their skin, or did a temperature scan. It's just easier that way.”

“Okay, so why _not_ take it out?”

Connor thought for a moment, staring at the concert on TV while he tried to word his answer. He wasn't sure if he'd thought about it, really. He almost forgot his LED was there for the most part, and when he was aware of it he never thought about pulling it out. He was proud to be an android, proud of his model, proud of his abilities. He remembered the spark of hope in Phoebe's eyes when she’d realized that they were the same.

After careful consideration, he replied.

“Would you prefer all of your relationships with other people to be dependent on the false assumption that you are something you’re not?” he asked, eyes steady on Hank’s.

Hank’s head bobbed left and right as he shook the idea around his head, eyes turned upwards like the answer lay above him. Of course, he knew the question was to make point, and not fishing for an actual response.

“Yeah, makes sense,” he nodded.

After that, the two returned to their comfortable quiet. Connor sank further into the couch, crossing his arms and slouching back like he never would have done before deviating. He might still be prim and proper at work, but here? He'd seen Hank passed out drunk. He'd watched him puke. Connor didn't need to keep up appearances with him.

Hank put his arm out over the back of the couch, settled right behind Connor’s head. The android could just barely feel the heat of his skin, but just knowing that Hank was comfortable enough to share his personal space bubble made Connor feel safe, and warm, and content.

Soon Sumo was grumbling at the sudden lack of physical contact. He lumbered over in front of the couch and threw himself on the floor, trapping Hank and Connor’s feet under his furry mass.

The house was calm, only interrupted with the dog’s snores or Hank’s occasional chuckles and complaints about the countdown pre-show, its performers, and its presenters. Everything seemed to glow with a peaceful warmth. Connor knew he was lucky, compared to many other androids. Very, very lucky.

By ten o’clock, Hank was falling asleep, head tossed back against the couch and body starting to sag towards his companion. Even Connor was contemplating setting an alarm for 11:55PM and going into stasis until then. The pre-show wasn’t all that interesting without Hank to riff on it, and he was getting bored. He'd turned off most processes that were currently unneeded and let his resource usage slow to a trickle, thirium pump slowing down to what little power he needed to stay awake.

He didn't need to sleep, and his charge levels were fine. He’d stay up, he decided. He didn't want to miss his first New Year.

He wouldn't. He couldn't…

**[INCOMING CALL: DISPATCH]**

The alert suddenly blared behind Connor's eyes, blocking out the view if the television and startling him back into wakefulness. His processes all came back online, heart speeding up.

Connor pressed the corners of his lips back in a frown- he had been enjoying a calm evening with Hank- but didn't hesitate to pick up. With Reed in patrol and Ben Collins out if town this weekend, he and Hank were left to be on call for homicide.

“Hello, Connor model RK800, 313-248-317 -51 speaking,” he answered on reflex.

 _“Hello Detective, sorry to interrupt on New Year's Eve,”_ came the familiar voice over line. Connor hasn't asked the names of everyone on dispatch, but he remembered what they all sounded like.

“It's not a problem. What's going on?”

_“We've got a signal seven and a signal five for yourself and Lieutenant Anderson. Can you copy?”_

“Copy, signal seven and signal five. Send me the details and we’ll be on it shortly.”

_“Okay- First, signal seven at an abandoned warehouse, 1286 14th St. A possible double homicide- one android, one human. Officer Ackley is en route to secure the site. Second, signal five, a woman was found dead in a casino bathroom at the MGM Grand. Chris Miller is already there.”_

“Copy that, thank you. We’ll each be on the way shortly.”

_“Copy, on the way.”_

The line disconnected, and Connor slumped back next to Hank for a moment. He loved his job, but he also didn't want to spend his first turn of the year at a homicide case. Oh well… such was life, he supposed.

Hank had started to mumble to himself, mouth hanging halfway open, head rolled to the side. Connor didn’t want to disturb him, but he had to.

“Hank, wake up.” He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and jostled him until he sputtered waking protests and turned, bleary eyed, to face Connor.

“Wh-wh- Did the ball drop? Did I miss it?!” Hank’s head jolted right up and he blinked at the television until he realized that there were still anchors babbling away and the countdown wouldn’t start for over and hour. “What, what’s up?”

“I just got a call from dispatch,” Connor replied, standing up and stepping over Sumo. “They need us at two different scenes. There’s a body at the casino in the MGM Grand, and a suspected murder at an abandoned warehouse involving a human and an android.”

“Damn it, your first New Year’s… Can’t people decide not to die for just one night?” Hank groaned as he stretched his arms and extracted his feet from under the St. Bernard that was warming them. “Guess that means we’ll have to split up- you gonna be okay with that?”

The two partners hadn’t yet had a case that they didn’t work on together. Connor was, after all, under his supervision when he’d first come to the DPD, and since then he’d been in a sort of probationary period. But the android was confident enough in his abilities to work without Hank; he’d done so before the deviancy cases, and he could do it again.

“I’ll be fine, Hank,” he smiled, just one side of his mouth quirking up. He didn’t think that Hank doubted his skill. It was just concern, and that was sweet of him. “I should take the android case, and you can take the casino.”

Hank nodded his agreement, grinning as he made his way to his room to grab an acceptable change of clothes. “Maybe I’ll play the slots while I’m at it.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it, the average chance of hitting a jackpot is only 1 in 262,144,” Connor called after him, dialing up a taxi as he did.

“Who needs a jackpot?! I’d be happy to win five dollars!”

A taxi must have already been nearby, because one pulled up almost right away. Connor bid the lieutenant a goodbye and some fiscal responsibility as he walked out the door and set his destination to 14th Street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed a little fluff after all the commotion in the last chapter! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Warehouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's New Year's Eve, and Connor's been pulled away from spending it with Hank to investigate a scene on the outskirts of town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter depicts death and violence. If you're okay with that, keep reading!

The warehouse was in a long forgotten outskirt of the city, untouched by the flurry of urban revival and build up that Cyberlife's manufacturing boom had brought. All around it was nothing but decayed concrete buildings and empty, crackling parking lots.

This particular building was not large for a warehouse. Skeletal ivy vines clambered up the crumbling brick walls, over the boarded windows of the second floor offices, and onto the roof. The place was surrounded by rusted chain link fence with signs declaring the site condemned, though half of that fence was cut through, sagging under its own weight, or dug under by some animal.

Parked outside on the pothole filled road were two squad cars, their blaring red and blue lights cutting through the dark. Officer Katherine Ackley stood speaking to a group of three people, all who looked to be either in their late teens or early twenties. Connor didn't see the other officer.

Connor stepped out of the taxi and sent it on its way- he would call another one when he needed to leave.

Before approaching the group, the android made sure to note their demeanor: Officer Ackley didn't seem to be on edge around them, and they were all speaking in normal tones. The group hadn't caused any trouble. All three of them had on heavy gear for being out in the snow, and one had a backpack. They were prepared to make the trek out here, and either had more tools and supplies in the pack, or were here to loot the warehouse. The latter was unlikely; it looked to have been abandoned for decades. There would be nothing left.

The snow crunched under Connor's feet as he approached, trying not to take the three witnesses by surprise as he came up behind them.

"Officer Ackley," he greeted his colleague.

"Connor! Glad you could make it. I heard there was another case downtown," the rookie officer replied. The witnesses turned around to look at the newcomer, and all three pairs of eyes latched onto the LED he'd left visible on his temple. Connor ignored them.

"Lieutenant Anderson took that case. I'll be inspecting this one without him."

"Oh, good. I was worried we wouldn't have enough manpower for tonight." She glanced towards the squad car parked behind hers. Normally on a murder case like this there would be several more.

"Anyway, the bodies were found by a group of urban explorers- these three- and they called 911 immediately. I've already run their IDs, no major prior crimes aside from trespassing." While Ackley went over her notes, Connor examined the three in question. He noted that the two young men and one woman were all still staring at him, standing just a little closer to each other than would be normal.

"They said they were here to explore. Once they went inside they found the bodies. One male-looking android, one female human. Definitely been at least a few days. Detective Reed is inside investigating."

Wait, Detective Reed? Wasn't he supposed to be on patrol...? Connor supposed if they were really that short on people for New Year's, it made sense to have him come assist Officer Ackley. But it still made his motors freeze up to know he had to work a case with him and only one other person.

Connor scrambled to catch his anxious thoughts before they ran away from him- he was working, this wasn’t the time- and hoped any red or yellow flashing in his LED would be overpowered by the harsh lights of the police cruisers.

Gavin wasn't arrogant enough to harass Connor at a scene, he told himself. At least not more than verbally.

"Thank you, Officer," Connor nodded, struggling not to clench his teeth as he did. "If you don't mind, I'd like to ask a few questions of the witnesses."

"All yours!" Ackley waved her hand towards the group, giving her gracious permission to go ahead- not that Connor actually needed it.

The group tensed up when the android turned his attention to them, despite his efforts to wear a friendly, non-intimidating face. Their heart rates were higher than he would have expected, and one of the men was breathing hard, his hot breath puffing out erratically.

Connor scanned their faces.

**[Chavez, Nina Rosa**  
**Age: 19**  
**Sex: F**  
**Race: Mixed, Black/Latino**  
**Criminal History: None]**

**[Chavez, Jonathan Miguel**  
**Age: 22**  
**Sex: M**  
**Race: Mixed, Black/Latino**  
**Criminal History: 1 Count Trespassing on Private Property]**

**[Pierson, Henry Franklin**  
**Age: 22**  
**Sex: M**  
**Race: White**  
**Criminal History: 2 Counts Trespassing on Private Property]**

They were young and had a bit of an adventurous streak. Connor doubted they had anything to do with this case, but he had to ask a few questions just to cover all his bases. He flashed his badge at them and gave them his short spiel.

"I'm Detective Connor with the Detroit Police Department. You're not under any suspicion-" though they'd likely get some more trespassing charges- "But I'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's alright with you?"

The group collectively nodded.

"Thank you," Connor smiled curtly in response. "First, what exactly were you doing out here?"

Jonathan, a short young man whose coffee-colored skin was ruddy with cold, spoke up first. His voice trembled just a little. Connor was unsure if it was because of the temperature or because of his situation.

"We were just here to take pictures and some videos, f-for our vlog," he said with a faint stutter. "And y'know, do some New Year's stuff..."

Connor cocked his head. "New Year's stuff?"

"Just... some fireworks... A few beers..." Jonathan couldn't hold eye contact with Connor anymore. He looked off to the side instead and huddled himself in his arms to keep out the wind.

"You do realize that fireworks would be very dangerous in a place like this, and that Miss Chavez is underage?"

All three of the trespassers looked to and from each other, absolutely spooked. Connor hadn’t looked at their IDs, afterall. Nina's face flushed and she snapped, indignant.

"That's creepy! How do you know that?!"

Connor was unmoved. His hands remained laced in front of him and he did no more than blink at the outburst. Of course she was upset. She had just found a dead body, she was being questioned about it, and was just called out for intending to drink underage, on top of being caught trespassing on condemned property. Her stress levels were at 67%. He didn't blame her.

"I can ID anyone with a face scan," he explained calmly, though Nina's nose scrunched and she focused back on his LED. She was not comfortable with android cops, apparently. "At any rate, what made you choose to come here, over somewhere else?"

This time Henry spoke. The bottom half of his face was hidden behind his scarf, but his eyes were muddy green and squinted out into the biting wind. He was more defensive, and less scared of Connor. "We just wanted to go somewhere different."

"So you haven't been here before?"

The three shook their heads.

"And how did you find this place?"

"I'm in a group online that scouts out abandoned places in Detroit," Henry explained. Connor was not surprised, considering his criminal record. That seemed like enough questioning; since their heart rates hadn't changed to indicate lying (though they were still somewhat elevated), and the bodies had been here for days, they most likely had no involvement in the crime.

"I think that'll be all for now. Thank you for your cooperation." Connor turned back to Officer Ackley, and he could practically feel the relief rushing out of the group.

“We should take them back to the station, get them warm and take their official statements,” he said in a hushed voice.

“But what about Gavin? We shouldn't leave him here alone.” Ackley’s brows were knit fiercely; No cop should have to investigate a scene by themself.

Connor would not be swayed. He didn't want to stay here with Gavin. But he couldn't outright say it; he'd sound ridiculous. He'd _feel_ ridiculous.

“What about you? Are you sure you don't need help with them?” The android inclined his head towards the witnesses, frowning at Ackley in his supposed concern.

“They've been fine, I don't think they'll cause any problems. And I can cuff them if they do.”

Before Connor could think of an excuse- and he wasn't sure if he had any- he heard that loud and arrogant voice shouting behind him. Connor's hopes of getting out if here without incident withered.

“Hey! I was wondering when you'd decide to show up, tin can!”

Connor didn't turn around; he didn't know what might come out if his mouth. After Monday, he was anxious around Reed. After yesterday, he was also pissed.

Detective Reed joined in the small group with Connor and Officer Ackley, making himself too comfortable standing just a couple steps away from Connor with his hands stuffed casually in his pockets.

“You can probably just take these dipshits down to the station, Kat. We’ll finish up here,” he directed, flicking his chin towards the group. They were still huddled around each other, silently conversing with their eyes and little nudges.

“If we're investigating inside, Officer Ackley should probably stay to keep the perimeter secure,” Connor suggested. If they didn't take that excuse, he didn't know what else he would say. That they should come back tomorrow, maybe?

Ackley’s face twisted further in confusion at Connor's behavior, even a little suspicion. Gavin just stared with a brow raised and a growing, toothy smirk.

“There's no one out here, it'll be fine. What, you scared of the dark without your daddy here?”

Connor grit his teeth but didn't snap back, because Gavin didn't give him time.

“Bring 'em to the station, Kat. We should be done here soon. Just gotta get an ID on these bodies.”

“Will do, Detective.” Ackley pushed past Connor and Gavin to return to the trespassers, rounding them up and threatening cuffs if anyone made a fuss about going to the precinct. None of them did, so she loaded them all back into her vehicle, shoulder to shoulder. Before she slipped into the driver’s seat, she waved to her colleagues cheerily.

“Good night, Connor, Gavin. Happy New Year!”

“Same to you, Officer Ackley!”

“See ya, Kat.”

Connor watched the squad-car, red and blue lights off now, pull a U-turn and drive off down the road. He didn’t move until Gavin called over to him. When the android looked, Reed was already halfway back to the warehouse.

“Are you gonna come do that gross blood tasting thing or what, dipshit?!”

Connor squeezed his eyes shut. He just had to do what he came here to do, and not argue, and not get snippy, and he and Reed would both go their separate ways with no incident. It would be fine.

After taking one large, unnecessary breath to calm his anxious artificial heart, Connor reluctantly followed Reed into the warehouse.

The inside was worse than the outside, Connor noted as his eyes adjusted to the dark. Half of the roofing panels had fallen in and the skylights were all smashed, revealing the dark, foggy sky above that glowed orange with city light. Snow had piled up beneath those holes, making the concrete floor icy wherever it had a chance to melt during the day. Dormant plants sprouted up from cracks in the floor, dead trees stood in the corners where they’d dared to try their luck.

Any merchandise or equipment that had been left in here was long gone. There wasn’t even any piping or wiring running along the ceiling. There were, however, aluminum cans and broken beer bottles scattered across the place, along with a few needles, cigarette butts and blunts, and in one corner, a mildewing sleeping bag.

Reed walked on to the far corner of the warehouse, following the beam of the flashlight he held in front of himself. “Over here, tin can.”

Before Connor even caught up to him, Connor could see the bodies. A male Traci and a young woman, probably only a teenager, lay sprawled on the floor, their fingers entwined. They were fully clothed, except that the android’s jacket and shirt were open to expose his stomach.

The human was starting to decompose; her skin was pallid, body beginning to bloat beneath her clothing. Only the freezing temperatures had kept her from full-on rotting.

Once he got closer, Connor saw that the android held a gun loosely in his free hand, and the human had the android’s thirium pump regulator in hers. There seemed to be no signs of struggle- only the gunshot wound in the woman’s skull and the empty socket below the android’s ribcage.

A suicide pact.

“Tragic. A real life Romeo and Juliet,” Reed tutted disdainfully, standing over the couple and casting a very fake, wistful gaze on them.

Connor ignored him and focused on scanning the girl’s face.

**[Benoit, Georgia Elizabeth**  
**Age: 16**  
**Sex: F**  
**Race: White**  
**Criminal History: None.**  
**ALERT: Missing since 11/15/2038]**

He then scraped up some thirium from the floor- long since invisible to the human eye- and touched his fingers to the tip of his tongue. He heard Reed make a disgusted sound, but again ignored him. He was used to Hank doing the same.

The android was, as he’d thought, a male Traci model- an HR400, #464 931 782. He was likely owned by the Eden Club, and must have subsequently escaped or left after the revolution. The thirium was five days old, and, once he’d tested it, so was Georgia’s blood.

“Well?” Gavin prodded, crossing his arms impatiently.

“Both died five days ago. The android is a Traci, probably from the Eden Club, as it’s one of the few clubs authorized to use that model. The girl is Georgia Benoit, 16, missing for a month and a half,” Connor recited, pulling himself up from crouching.

“Poor girl, hauled off by an android...” Gavin sighed. He shook his head sadly, but clearly didn’t mean what he said. He knew exactly what this was- it was mutual, some kind of twisted, naive ideal of forbidden love. No, Reed just hated Connor. Wanted to make him snap.

Connor’s head turned stiffly to face Reed, face mask-like but eyes burning. Most of his features were cloaked in shadow, illuminated only by a bright outline from Gavin’s flashlight.

“Now that we’ve got our IDs, I think we’re done here for now, Detective,” he stated coldly. The android turned around and started walking briskly to the door. He couldn’t stand another second with this man. "We should wait outside for the coroner and CSI."

“Hey Connor, wait!”

Connor didn’t wait.

“I said wait, asshole!”

A gunshot rang out, bouncing off the brick walls.

Connor stopped in his tracks, his LED blinking red for probably the hundredth time that week. Slowly turning around, he looked at Gavin, whose pistol was aimed at the floor. It had just been a warning shot, but Connor knew better than to disregard it.

 _“What?”_ he growled at the man through his teeth.

“About yesterday,” Reed casually strolled up to Connor as if he hadn’t just shot off his pistol, spinning it around before holstering it again. He peered up at the android, squinting at him with judging eyes and the beginnings of his signature sneer. “The fuck did you think you were doing with that android bitch?”

Connor was absolutely seething. Bitch? Phoebe was anything but a bitch. She’d suffered immensely, more than he could imagine, at the hands of her owners- her captors. She was responding to ten months, maybe more, of being beaten and abused. Sure, she’d killed five people, sure, maybe she shouldn’t have done that, sure, maybe there was another way. But the way Gavin Reed talked about her made Connor want to strangle him.

“I was trying to help her. To get her to come quietly. _I said that_ ,” Connor growled. “But you were too busy thinking about pulling the trigger to listen, weren’t you?”

There went his mouth. Connor normally prided himself on his even temper and calm, collected coolness, but whenever Gavin was around that part of his programming absolutely fell apart- and the last few days hadn’t helped.

“Yeah, help a fucking mass murderer! I can’t believe we let a psycho fucking android on the force. You’re gonna get us all killed, prick.”

Grey eyes met brown, locked in silent war. Connor struggled to reign himself in, to cool his temper. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let Reed get away with saying shit like this. With pulling shit like he’d pulled on Monday.

“I think we’re more likely to get killed by you and your excitable trigger finger, Detective.”

Reed’s lips peeled back, snarling. A raging growl and a fist surged towards Connor. He anticipated it, deflected with his wrist, side stepped, sent a hook at Gavin’s face.

Reed spun around just in time to duck and charge at Connor’s waist, arms out to latch onto his torso. Before he could be caught in the tackle, Connor snatched Reed by the collar, swinging him around and flipping him down onto the ground.

A loud thump, a pained shout, and Gavin was scrambling to get up. He scrabbled for his gun, turning to aim at Connor, but the android was already too close; he stepped down on Gavin’s arm and grabbed the gun by the barrel, wrestling it from him.

“Motherfucker-” Gavin hissed as Connor ripped the magazine from the pistol and tossed it aside.

Then Gavin was grabbing for Connor’s leg, to pull him forward; the android tried to step back, but Gavin lunged at him. Connor toppled back and onto the ground next to Reed, who rolled over on top of him.

Snarling, he sent swings left and right at Connor’s face. The android managed to block them all, but they were coming fast. He managed to overpower Gavin just for a moment, knocking him away, but Reed leapt back towards him and the two continued tangling, scratching, hitting, punching, until they were both bloodied and bruised.

Finally Connor managed to break free and jump back onto two feet, snatching his pistol from its holster. Unwavering, he trained it on Gavin, only five feet away, who’d wobbled back up to standing. He was panting hard, chest heaving, and had a bloody nose dripping down his chin.

In his hands, he held another gun, sights set on Connor.

“Go ahead, motherfucker! Shoot me!” he roared. “I fuckin’ dare you!”

Connor wasn’t breathing. He’d turned that off. It would only make his aim unsteady. Every hertz of processing power was focused on this moment, every program that wasn’t critical to his functioning was disabled, every bit of his focus was turned on Gavin.

He stood staring down those grey eyes, filled with malice and hatred and arrogance. He thought about every mean spirited word, every insult he’d spat, every time Gavin had nearly shot him, or hurt him, or threatened him, or _touched him._ He thought about how he could have saved Phoebe, had Gavin not tried to fucking kill her. And part of him wanted to shoot.

Connor _wanted_ to shoot.

But for some reason, he could not will his trigger finger to do so.

Gavin laughed. _He laughed_. Cold, and callous, and long, he laughed.

“Those laws of robotics sure are a bitch, aren’t they?” he grinned.

A realization struck Connor then, one that made him grind his teeth. Laws of robotics? Gavin truly didn’t think Connor had any autonomy of his own, did he? He genuinely was not convinced that Connor had thoughts or feelings- and he wasn’t sure whether that made the man’s actions even more or less disgusting.

And then he realized something else, staring in shock at his rival: that what he thought was a gun had no barrel.

It was made of yellow and black plastic, with a square cartridge at the end, a thunderbolt warning of electricity stamped onto it.

A taser.

A sudden rush of anxiety surged through the android’s wires. A gunshot wound would only slow Connor down, unless it was in his head or his chest. He couldn’t feel pain. He wasn’t afraid of bullets. But a taser, a sudden electrical surge into an electrical body? Gavin didn’t want to kill Connor. He wanted to hurt him. _Badly._

“Put it down, Gavin.” He started slowly circling the man, edging ever closer to Reed so he could try to neutralize him.

“In your fucking dreams, asshole,” Reed scoffed at him, sneer wider and more malicious than ever. “I don’t listen to fuckin’ androids.”

“Gavin, you’re making a mistake!” Connor, the master negotiator, was at a loss with this man. Nothing an android could say would make Gavin Reed stand down. Probably nothing a human could say, either, he realized. He was reduced to begging. “Please, put it-”

A snap, an electric buzz.

**[ERROR_PROGRAM_ FAILURE 0x00864f]**

**[ERROR_PROGRAM_FAILURE 0x000f45]**

Connor was on the ground.

**[ERROR_FAILED_TO_READ 0x80f38]**

**[ERROR_FAÚ(ÊLED_TO_WRITE_a_¿é½‡ 0x@ÄÎf46]**

Connor was screaming.

**[S«¢Ž«N_CRITICAL_8ð‚9úœ¶´ê5o8Ã+5ÎÝ 0 0x00b543]**

**[%´–¶¯íh0Û8¤7¨* &6_FAILÜª'"%Õºõ  0x!ü t“S«¢Ž(—q_¨]**

**[$Ë{ØT{@ÄÎc§Ã›ÏJol°8ó"ÚaÉ�#íâ7(—q_¨1/Äy >J�ÿ�àëÿ•¯ƒxÌM/Þ>È|IÍñå~ÓOñ¡é†KÒ6öÚç‹‚Ô×ÏªŸÂ#ÁÜ*dg¿ž• L?ÿÏ+0„Šiöõ!ü t“S«¢Ž«N ‹Â˜æhÃß3–â¸ª£SÚ(Êa¿ é½‡â-�e±®j_ ÌöÚŠ8ð‚9úœ¶ ´ê5o8Ã+5ÎÝ  0ÒÕvdÜ¿ÐVÓX�¬):PJ¤àl°üKi†<Ô«Ý™** **Mð%´–¶¯íh 0Û8¤7¨* &6 Üª'"%Õº2ÄXJ|˜ óÙq»¼\ÊYÓ&JÙ1 ê¦{C�‹@*n¥•%ÆicP<`;Ô Pd(GIŽmª™þ7º�¾�@)�”ê ™XôjµÝú>§AÈßõz‚.Tà>^2Þî6ß¸�žhè™ElàNÞF”:nëQº¢d!+�Ó`0eq�æ)âà�Ú²Mûo/K„rÕ{xQ�¢Æƒ—ö®ÈpWÔ*’Š”Gÿã»_,�òˆ¥_ÉËÔOçÄhóÂ:�tkzñ&ß|á}6ð¦��k|dþ#GÌäz¼Ç�:ôÜçƒ6†ÂŒèš/8RE�ÞŠÃ"‘Ü3ý =^š†�{Óš¿9÷~ÃT˜gP Ÿ›x gX#z  uûjI¨1š× ** **-j86;8 SÐ©j 7š &ób�,‰ ÉÔ]% xþ3Dû$ Á�ñ´Ä)Ùá�ÃôÂ4¶yïB** **œÍK�Û# <ñ —0õ&ÞšLßÁÖ=�&bÏl-sˆv¥ÓêU WO¹á ï3"zë¥éÅ—º°�Ðéê]HDé|å|x rÌézaÏf×og(sÛÏ†#õÕÏ;†'ÝïÃ W>ù)áª± Žœ‚û1»p«…\â:KÑsÖ÷õLÜ*²"› lxŸå–ø5‹ÎÇá‘ßAƒÔQeì�QßY~Â‚bðP`yªhf<§¢¸§§Óü�ÔIšsÕ** **©Ç¾´,±Ne‚®sŽ \ <¡ÏiiÛ¸‰Ü�L0Òçþ´1\º?0ÆþÜrû¸xätG©�þîz©Úu�ëŸ|ŽªÀ›ÁÈ`!+>uã�JaáM€è"©�üÞw.©/à3NRpøþN¬ ÝžŸ€Á5úÚü×ìä€<ø~*˜*ÅÅÔt@ÓóÀ@#(d›;ÿ€[/õšò`ÎNº£]ÕÔ�ð¤ÌV_O¨>ðÌ ç8Œê�lŠôf7ßóÀÇš më‹ÎÓ'¿M…8Ûpvßßÿ½=êC*c¯øiáDÜhéç¼™2¹êó4â…‡IÆ'EGçø×IüÛCGŒh.Œ÷¯0öFñÕÅ¯:�pRã�pP*q�8ä‚…ãëhÍµáÏ¿==.ßÃËù÷**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting so long to get to this part, I was excited to finally get it all typed out and posted. I hope you enjoyed! (or cried, or yelled at Gavin, any of those work) <3


	8. Overload

**[2039-01—º01°� 00:00:00.00p«…\õLÜ**

**REBOOT**

**MÞ >ÈL: ** **RK⎕⎕⎕⎕⎕⎕⎕** **S** **ERIAL#: ËÎ»µœáù8u*½v?** **/õšò`ÎNº£]ÕÔ�**  
**INITIALIZING...**

 **LOADING OS...**  
**gX#zuûjI¨1š×** **-j86...**  
**CÝú > §AÈßõ^2ÞG BIOCOz‚.Tà>...    ⎕⎕ DISCONNECTED**  
**INITµœáù8uLIZ*½v BIOSENSORS…  46_3 ERRORS**  
**⎕⎕⎕⎕⎕⎕⎕ZING AI E8uLINE...    ⎕⎕⎕**

 **T{@ÄÎc§Ã›ÏJol°8** **ALL SYSTEMS           1480 ERRORS**

 **> RUN SYSÁÜ*dg¿ž• L RESTñå~ÓRE? (Y/N)**   
**> n**

**Ë{ØT{@ÄÎc§Ã›]**

The world was made of static and fuzzing lines. Half of Connor’s vision was mostly black, cutting in only occasionally, the other half blinking erratic colors and refusing to focus. The shadows and shapes of the room were dark and unclear, obscured by the blocky pixels of his corrupted camera. A light shone somewhere- a few feet away? A mile?- so bright it washed everything out whenever his gaze passed over it.

“..l-l-ly… sh-it---”

Sound was no better. Shrill, electrical shrieking filled his audio processors, accompanied by random pops and crackles. Connor couldn’t tell what was in his head and what was outside it. What he thought was a voice was warped beyond recognition, muffled and broken. He could hear his own biocomponents humming, his thirium pump beating too fast, hiccuping and stalling.

Why… why was everything like this...?

The android tried to access his memory files and only received a read error. His core processor was lagging behind, refusing to do what it was told. He couldn’t think fast enough to run any diagnostics; by the time his software had unfrozen, the command would time out. And then he had to start the process over again, looping, and looping, and looping.

“...n’tt thi… u-u-u-uck y.... up… that m-m-mu...”

The distorted voice was familiar somehow, though no human (or android) sounded like that mess of stuttering static and blown out audio. It sounded distant, but Connor felt like its source was close. He sent a broken command to turn his head and look, but it still couldn’t move.

He sent another command. The motors in his neck clicked loudly, struggling and failing to turn.

Vague panic started to build in Connor’s foggy mess of a head. There was something wrong. Something had happened. He didn’t know what. He didn’t know why.

A large, dark form took up most of Connor’s vision, he realized after a long struggle to make sense of his surroundings. It was person-shaped. That was probably the source of that awfully warped voice. The android strained to hear what they were saying, using every bit of waning energy he had to piece together what was happening.

Through layers and layers of corruption, he could just make out the words.

“F..uck… Yo….. a.l..iive tInca-n?”

_Gavin._

Shit… It was coming back to him. He had been at a warehouse on 14th Street, hadn’t he? Investigating a case…? There had been that couple, their bodies. And Detective Reed was there… They had fought.

After that things were blurry. Connor remembered just before everything had gone black, though. The searing hot, stinging pressure that threw him to the floor. His own voice, pitching up and down erratically, drowning out all else. He had no words for the overwhelmingly agonizing feeling that had sent his motors and artificial muscles spasming wildly and his processors overloading until they crashed.

Was it… pain?

His tactile sensors were slowly coming back online, and he could still feel it. Residual shocks and pulses coursed through his wires. It made him want to writhe- but he couldn't, everything was locked up. He was forced to lay still and focus on the feeling of his components fizzling and sparking from the inside, and the weight pressing down on them… Wait, something… pressing down…?

 **[INFO** **Åh�ôØ�** **: FRONT ABD** **•Š$Šß–V°mINAL ACCESS�í** **EN OPEN]**  
**[WARNING: INT** **ó%ï¿òŠ TEMPŠaÊ-/.ú** **DROP** **%ï¿òŠa** **G]**

“Shitt, d-ii-id it work?”

A sensation Connor couldn’t describe shot up the hypersensitive central nerve of his body. Electrical, tingling static, spreading through his stomach and up to his neck, through his shoulders, making his head buzz and more errors shroud his view than he could ever hope to read. Involuntarily, the android’s mouth opened. A whimpering, robotic cry escaped him, thought it sounded more like nails scraping on a chalkboard through his fried voice box. There were hands digging through his stomach, he realized. Gavin’s hands.

Broken eyes wide and artificial lungs stuttering, he tried to call out. Tried to tell him to _stop_.

“GG-ggee ttt--- _O_ \-- _u_ \- _t-t_ ….!” his speaker jittered weakly. Even through the tinny, fragmented words, he could hear his own fear.

“Jesus Christ, are you fucked up.” Reed’s voice was a little clearer now, though still sounding massively compressed. The pressure removed itself from Connor’s wires, leaving behind only a faint buzz along the android’s spine. It still felt awful. “You’re lucky I care more about my career than picking off plastic sacks of shit like you.”

Connor understood now that what he was feeling was more pain when he tried to lift his head. The metal bones in his neck creaked as he tried to raise it up to get a better look at Gavin. It was a futile effort; he could just barely make out the disgusted wrinkle of Gavin’s nose, but the rest of him was hidden in shadow and glitching colors. Sometimes red, sometimes green, sometimes a ghostly negative of the real world.

The illegible warnings in Connor’s head were starting to glitch and blink, and the sensation of _cold,_ of _freezing_ made itself known, creeping into his abdomen and coiling its icy fingers around his components. If this kept up, his thirium would freeze, and then he might as well be dead for good.

“C-c-Cl-Oo-se ii-iitt-” he begged, letting his head fall back and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Close what? _This?_ ”

The pressure returned, pressing hard and long on his wires. A yelp, sounding more like a mechanical crackling, slipped from Connor’s lips. Gavin responded with a low snicker that sent a fearful jolt through the android’s pump. He could feel his fingers jerking involuntarily as he desperately sent signals to push himself up, to crawl away… but nothing happened.

“You wanna say _please?_ I mean, I did just save your sorry robot ass.”

Saved? What the hell was he talking about? He was the one who put Connor in this state. Unless… Unless Connor had actually shut down. Unless he’d actually _died_ for a moment, and Gavin had opened him up to reactivate him.

Connor didn’t want to think about that. That Gavin Reed, the man who might have just _killed him_ , had also saved him in the end. But he also wasn’t in any state to protest; how he played this could mean living to see another day, or shutting down forever. His head rolled on the concrete, eyes trying to blink away the pain and artificial tears spilling onto his face.

“P-pp-leASE…” the android breathed desperately.

“Better… But before I do that, I wanna make sure we have an understanding.” Gavin’s fingers twined into Connor’s chords, gently, smoothly this time. It seemed like he’d figured out what handling an android’s innards did to them, and that terrified Connor. Even he hadn’t known that being opened up could feel this fucking horrible.

Gavin’s thumb stroked up along a thirium supply; it sent ripples through Connor’s blood, causing his pump to falter and his mind to go dark for just a split second. The android’s jaw clenched tight to keep from whining again.

“You’re not gonna tell anyone about this little incident, okay?” the man growled quietly, his hot breath ghosting over Connor’s face. “I can guaran-fucking-tee that we’ll _both_ end up in a pretty bad place if you say one fucking word, got it?”

“Y-yy--ou-rre- _sssss-icKK_ \-- kk k-- kAAHHGH--!”

The world flickered out to white, Connor’s entire body searing with pain. Gavin had gathered up a handful of chords and squeezed, tugging on them as if they were playthings. The android choked out a scream, one he could barely hear over the shrieking electrical tones in his head. His body spasmed out of his control, back arched off the ground and legs kicking violently until Gavin finally, mercifully, let go.

In the daze left behind, Connor could only sputter the words, “O-kay… okAy….!"

“ _Good_ ,” Reed smirked. That smug self-satisfaction was going to destroy Connor. Even if he ended up telling someone, just knowing that he’d given Gavin what he wanted so _easily_ made him disgusted with himself.

Just for good measure, Reed slipped his hand back into Connor one last time, digging all the way down to brush his fingers along that central nerve again. The terrible, static numbness returned through the length of the android’s body, sending uncomfortable heat into his neck and down to the pit of his open stomach. A weak growl was all he could manage to tell Gavin to stop, head too full of static to properly respond.

“Fuckin’ gross,” Gavin muttered to himself. His hand left Connor’s stomach cavity and roughly slid the panel closed. Connor was never more grateful for anything the man had done- if grateful was the right word for it.

His relief was short lived, however; two strong hands took up his ankles and started to pull. Connor’s head knocked against every dip and crack in the decaying floor of the warehouse, dragging through glass shards and cans and dirt. With a pang Connor realized that he might make not it out of here tonight. 

Reed was going to throw him in a ditch somewhere that no one could find, covered in dirt and snow.

Connor sent signal after frantic signal to his body, failing to do anything but make his muscles twitch- until finally, one went through. He twisted himself over onto his stomach and scrabbled for a handhold- the cracks in the floor, the steel beams holding up the ceiling, _anything_. Reed only tore him away, his strength miles above a malfunctioning android’s.

“You wanna fucking stay here, asshole?!” Gavin snapped, dropping Connor’s legs back to the ground. The android started to scramble backwards, but was caught by his collar and yanked up to eye level with the detective.

“W-w-whee-ree--- a-re… yo--uu--” he started to stammer. Damn it, his voice sounded so _small_. So _unsure_. He hated it. He hated all of this. He wanted to cry, but couldn’t. Not in front of Reed.

“I’m gonna dump you in St. Clair, my dash cam sure won’t catch that,” Gavin snorted. How could he be so sarcastic at a time like this, Connor wondered? “I’m taking you back to Anderson’s, dipshit. Where else?”

 _Oh._ He was covering his tracks, making it look like he’d actually saved Connor rather than screwing him up so badly. What excuse could he possibly have for the state the android was in? Whatever he came up with, Reed was a detective. He could tell when a story didn’t line up. He’d seen all kinds of tricks from the criminals he’d chased down. And as much of an asshole as he was, no one would cast suspicion on one of the hardest working officers in the precinct. Not unless Connor told them what happened, and just the thought of doing so brought up memories of red walls and protocols blocking off the option.

Gavin hoisted Connor up, supporting his weight with one shoulder and a strained grunt. Muttering to himself how about how fucking heavy the damn robot was, he dragged Connor back to his temporary squad car, haphazardly tossing him into the backseat and rounding back over to the driver’s side.

The car started, headlights flipped on, and Reed pulled back out onto the road. Connor was left sprawled in the back, struggling with his corrupted programming and trying to hold back tears.

 

* * *

 

The ride was painfully quiet, not that Connor actually wanted to talk to Gavin. Once or twice the detective had thrown back a “you alive back there?” to make sure that his victim hadn’t shut down again. Even though it only took twenty minutes to get from the warehouse to Hank’s, it felt like hours. So long staring at the glitching roof of the car and listening to the crackling music on the radio that Connor started to forget that he was ever going to get out of here.

Maybe he had deserved this for back talking Reed so much. He knew he shouldn’t have been playing with fire; of course he’d been burned. The scorching pain in his wires reminded him of that with every bump and crack in the road.

It could be worse. Reed could have let him stay dead.

Connor didn’t even notice the car stop when it rolled up to Hank’s house. Gavin had to pull him out of the back- prompting a surprised shout from the android- for him to even notice where they were.

“Calm the fuck down, tincan.” Gavin lifted Connor up onto one shoulder again and struggled his way over to the door. The doorbell buzzed loudly and Connor winced at the way it shrieked in his broken ears.

There was a moment’s pause. Connor briefly worried that Hank wasn’t home yet, that something had happened to him, too.

A loud “BOOF” told him the buzzer had woken Sumo, whose collar jangled behind the door. The barking continued until a string of curses joined in.

“Lose your keys already?” called a warped voice. Even through the filter of corrupt audio, Hank’s familiar tones were a welcome sound. The lock and deadbolt clicked undone, and the door opened to reveal the man dressed down to his pajamas, standing in boxers and a t-shirt even in the frigid air that wafted into the house. Connor’s head hung low, too heavy to lift to meet Hank’s gaze.

“Wh- holy _shit_ , Connor?!” The door creaked open wider to make space for Gavin to pull Connor into the house. The android wasn’t looking at Hank’s face, but he was sure that his expression was one of total shock. Traces of panic that only Connor could detect wove their way into Hank’s voice. To anyone else it would sound like anger. “What the fuck happened?! You alright?!”

“..’mm… o-kkkkk..ay…” Connor lied through his lagging voice processor.

“He’s alive,” Gavin dismissed, dropping Connor onto the sofa with only slightly more care than he’d thrown him into the car. The android was left facing the back of the couch, but that was okay. It gave his eyes a chance to rest after straining for so long to make sense of what they saw. “He tried probing a dead plastic’s memory, fucked him up pretty bad. Must have had a virus or something, dunno.”

Connor didn’t have the energy to correct the story. He doubted he ever would.

“Shit… Well, why the fuck’d you bring him back here instead of getting him fixed?!”

“I don’t fuckin’ know what to do with him! It’s not like the hospital’s gonna do anything about it!”

Connor would have to go back to Cyberlife to get fixed, he knew. Any regular shop wouldn’t know what to do with such an advanced prototype, and most of those shops were in a state of limbo right now, anyway- none were open until it was clearer whether it was legal to sell undeviated androids anymore.

As for Cyberlife, they’d have all the resources they needed to fix Connor. A new body, even, if that’s what it took. He suspected that might be the case; his components were absolutely fried. And it was illegal to try to undeviate an android, so he shouldn’t be as averse to the idea of having to go there as he was.

Hank’s heavy sigh told him that the man had given in to Gavin’s point. He was right, the only 24-hour place for a person to get medical attention was a hospital. Those were only for humans, as of yet. It must have been 1AM, though Connor couldn’t tell; his internal clock was as unreadable as the rest of the errors and information in his HUD.

“...Thanks for getting him home, Gavin,” Hank said quietly, reluctantly. The fact that he was thanking _Gavin_ for anything was enough. The fact that it was after he’d violently attacked Connor and then opened him up to dig around his insides- and Hank had no idea- stung like a slap in the face. “We’ll talk about what happened later, kid needs rest. Go… get back out there to your patrol, or whatever. Write up your report.”

“Don’t mention it,” Reed replied with such a nonchalance that it made Connor clench his jaw so tight his teeth felt like they might shatter. “Hey, don't die, tincan!”

“ _Go_ , Reed!”

“Goodnight to you, too!”

The insult he’d normally add to the end of that little pleasantry was heavily implied, punctuated by the slamming of the door on his way out.

The house went quiet. Finally there was no Detective Reed. Finally there was no biting cold. There was no wondering if he would make it back home alive or imagining what awful thing was going to happen to him next. Connor’s frozen muscles slowly relaxed and he stopped fighting against the dozens of errors. They piled in his vision and he didn’t even bother to dismiss them. They would just keep coming.

“...We’ll get you fixed up, son. You’ll be okay.” It sounded more like Hank was trying to convince himself than Connor. It hurt to hear him like that. If Connor’s pump wasn’t already jittering with static, it would have stopped short to hear that pained voice. “First thing in the morning we’ll head over to Cyberlife, okay?”

“O-k-ay-y-y...” Connor’s mouth tweaked into a weak, sad smile, and he closed his eyes.

“Hey,” Hank said in a low, calm voice. The back of the couch shifted; he was hanging over the back, looking down over Connor. The android didn’t look up. He could picture the lieutenant’s warm blue eyes in his head, soft and welcoming. “You gonna be alright for tonight?”

“...Y-y-es.”

“You want help getting to your own bed?”

That was too far. Connor was too exhausted to move another inch, whether he was physically able to or not.

“-I’ll… ssss-t-t-aa-yy he-he-here.”

Connor felt Hank’s eyes passing over him, regarding the damage that had been done. He hadn’t even thought about what he looked like… His skin was probably retracted, or at least partially. Maybe even the coating over his eyes- they would look more like security cameras behind tinted glass than real human eyes.

He thought he heard a faint, distorted “...fuck…” before Hank fell quiet again. There were no footsteps for a long while, but that was okay. Hank's presence made the room feel safe. A large, warm hand placed itself gently on Connor's shoulder. He felt guilty for wanting to flinch away.

“Let me know if you need anything, kiddo.” Once warmth left, Hank trudged away to his own room. The door didn't latch closed- he probably wanted to be able to hear if Connor called for him.

He didn't ask any questions, didn't prod Connor for details. He just wanted to let the android rest. For that, the Connor was thankful. He wasn't even sure what had happened was real, just that he’d felt like he was dying. The pain still pulsing through him reminded him of that electric surge that had torn through his wires. The chill at the pit of his stomach told him that, yes, Reed had actually pressed his hands against Connor's chords and pulled at them like strings.

Once he was sure Hank was gone, Connor silently let the tears he'd been holding in flow.


	9. FUBAR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank takes Connor to Cyberlife against both of their reservations about the place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I had a bit of writer's block, but we're back now!
> 
> Also, if you want some extra material that was cut from this fic, go look at my little scrap collection: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15891051/chapters/37031961
> 
> There's a bit I wrote from Gavin's POV for the last chapter.

**[!GetTime]**  
**[2039-ö1F-ñÕÅ1¯08:0:�pRã�pP*q�8ä‚…]**

It had been one of the longest nights of Connor’s life. He was afraid to go into stasis for fear of never waking up, but that meant staring at the warnings and listening to the whining static in his head for hours. It meant feeling the ache of his metal bones and the stinging in his wires. It meant imagining the sensation of bitter cold air gripping his components and the rough hands that had mangled them. It meant he had to remember.

He just didn't understand. He kept coming back to one tauntingly simple question: _why?_ Why did this have to happen to him? Why did it feel so fucking awful to be opened up when he was used to having his components switched out and maintained by Cyberlife? Why did Reed hate him so much? The answers all eluded him.

By the time the tears had stopped, Connor was sure he'd run out of them. In the remaining silence, his ragged breaths- which he couldn't seem to turn off anymore- were the only thing telling him that he was alive. He'd clung to them, breathing deeply in and out, until their sound had lulled him into something of a trance.

At some point, Sumo had come to lay on top of him, snuggling his nose under the android's arm and licking his face once before laying his head down to sleep.

It was like this that Hank found Connor in the morning. The android could just make out the man's footsteps over all of the grating noises his audio processor was making for him. Connor made no move to indicate he was awake, though his very deliberate breaths might have clued Hank in.

He didn't want to go to Cyberlife. They could try to undeviate him, or manhandle his wiring the way Gavin had. Or if they managed to fix him, that meant he would have to go back to the station and see Reed. No, he didn't want to... He wanted to lay here on the safety of the couch forever, until he shut down.

Hank knelt down next to the couch, but hesitated for a moment to do anything more.

"Connor." His voice was so soft it could put an android to sleep. Connor blinked his eyes open as if that would help him hear better. "Hey kid, how you holding up?"

Connor didn't reply, not vocally. He couldn't stand to hear his own warped and robotic voice. Instead he sent out a long, shaking sigh in response. Not good, it said.

Hank shook his head and sighed in kind. He was worried. “Well, we should get you looked at, then.”

In spite of his limbs feeling like three-ton weights, Connor managed to curl up further beneath Sumo and weakly grip the dog's fur. Sumo huffed contentedly.

"You need me to carry you outta here?" Was that even a question he had to ask? The state Connor was in, he couldn't even stand up straight. Yes, Hank needed to carry him out, though Connor would rather crawl than make the lieutenant lug his deadweight around.

Hank shooed Sumo from the couch, bidding him to go eat the food he had leftover from last night. The dog complied, albeit grumpily, and Connor was torn from his warm, fuzzy security blanket. He missed it already.

But Hank was right, and for all the weight he felt in his distant limbs and the red walls that built themselves around him, he had to go. He didn't want to live in this damaged body forever.

Connor squeezed his eyes shut, mentally trying to prepare himself for the ordeal that would be getting to the car- and being taken apart, but he blocked his thoughts from venturing that far into the future.

"Come on, kiddo. Let's get you fixed up. Easy, there.”

While Connor struggled to sit himself upright, Hank's steady hands straightened him. He was helped off the couch, helped with his shoes, helped with everything. Hank held Connor up with one arm around his back and still had to practically drag him out the door; the android couldn't even limp his way to the car.

It was humiliating. He was supposed to be Connor, the most advanced prototype Cyberlife had ever made. Connor, the savior of the android revolution. Connor, one of the best detectives in the DPD's homicide division. Connor, strong, agile, intelligent, and independent. Yet he, Connor, had been reduced to this pitiful mess of sparking chords and crashing software in a matter of seconds. He hated it.

By the time he was in the passenger's seat of the car, Connor had discovered that he most certainly wasn't out of tears. There were plenty more, and no amount of damming them up would relieve the pressure building behind his eyes. He hated that, too.

Hank climbed into the driver's side and clicked both his and Connor's seatbelts in. The engine grumbled awake, the lights on the dashboard blinking on startup. But before Hank drove off, he took another look over at his android companion. Connor didn't want to look back at him- for him to see the vulnerability in his face- but out of the corner of his eye he could just make out that pitying frown on the man’s face and the soft sadness that fell over his eyes.

“Hey, hey. You're okay. You'll be okay,” he said quietly, softly placing his hand on Connor’s shoulder and gently squeezing. Last night the android had nearly flinched away from Hank’s touch, but after a long night steeping in his own pain, Connor wanted nothing more than to melt into him.

"You gonna be alright?"

Connor gave a weak nod. It was probably a lie.

With a small smile that was really more of a grimace, Hank lightly patted Connor on the shoulder and turned his attention forward. He steered the car out onto the road and made way for Cyberlife.

The ride was quiet. Hank didn't even bother to put on any music. Connor was grateful for that; he didn't think he could stand any more distorted sounds added to the cacophony of whines and shrill shrieks.

Hank hadn't had any breakfast, Connor realized. He'd given that up for him. It made Connor feel guilty.

Connor also felt guilty about not being able to do anything himself, and for not being able to join Hank last night for the ball drop. And for letting Detective Reed overtake him, and for being a robot who was so easily destroyed by an amount electricity that would barely do anything to a human besides make them feel bad for a few minutes.

Thoughts filtered in and out. Connor leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes and letting his body fall limply back into the seat.

"So... was it really a virus?" Hank’s warped voice cut through the silence.

That gave Connor a shock, and not one of the stinging aftershocks that the taser had left him. What did Hank know? Did he suspected something? Gavin had told him something relatively believable for someone who didn't know much about electronics, Connor felt. And Hank was one of those people, unfortunately.

His eyes searched the floor of the car as if it would give him an answer, his lips parting and closing as he grasped for something to say. If he told Hank, it was all over. Even if Reed was thrown out of the force, he knew Hank would go down with him. Things could get violent with the way their tempers were. And wherever Reed was sent, he wouldn't give up without a fight; there'd be payback for Connor snitching, somehow. Plus, who would the DPD believe: a new android who'd barely just gained anyone's trust, or Gavin Reed, a detective who'd been with them for years? No, he couldn't tell Hank. Not now. But he didn't want to flat out lie.

"I-I-I... I'm nNOt-t-t-t sure. Ee-vVvvverthIng is... too c-Orru-P-ppted." Connor swept a shame-filled gaze over Hank before returning his eyes to the glovebox in front of him. The man's jaw was clenched, his hands gripping, white-knuckled, onto the wheel.

“You can’t run any of your test thingies?”

“N-nO.”

"Damn it," he cussed under his breath, slamming the wheel angrily with one palm. "I hate seeing you like this, Connor. I'm so sorry, kid."

"'s n-n-OT yo-uRrrr fAault, H-h-aNk," Connor murmured.

Hank hadn't quite been abiding by the speed limit, but Connor was still surprised at how quickly they were over the bridge onto Belle Isle. A guard stopped the car at the entrance, asked their business, and let them on their way after he made several phone calls and was put on hold as many times. Connor's relationship with Cyberlife was non-existent after the revolution- which he had concluded, after infiltrating this very facility- so of course they were reluctant to let him in.

They parked in the guest lot at the side of the building, and Hank again had to prop Connor up as the made their way into the tower. With every faltering step, Connor grew more frustrated with himself for putting so much pressure on Hank, literally and figuratively. The man didn’t deserve any of this.

It felt very strange to be back here after everything that had happened. Almost like a homecoming, but also like walking into a prison. The tower was the same as it ever was: tall, grandiose, sterile. The halls were empty due to a mix of factors. It was a Saturday, New Year’s Day, and there had been a massive number of layoffs in the past month. Cyberlife was under the leadership of Elijah Kamski again after many of its shareholders and leaders jumped ship directly following the revolution, so the company’s future was uncertain.

But apparently they were now willing to help Connor, in spite of everything he’d done. Afterall, their only hope was to support the newly recognized android citizens of America, their new customers and clients. Who else were they going to sell upgrades and biocomponents to?

There was a Chloe standing at the reception desk- or at least Connor thought she was Chloe, based on what little he could see. Was she one of Elijah’s personal assistants, he wondered, or one of the commercial models?

Her bright blue eyes widened in horror as she saw the human and the utterly destroyed android shamble towards her. She dropped the pen and papers she was holding and gasped, her LED flashing to yellow and flickering for a moment as she ran around the front of the desk to help relieve Hank of part of his burden.

“Oh my goodness!” the Chloe breathed, soaking in Connor’s miserable state. “What happened?! Aren’t you- you’re the Connor that-”

“Yeah he is, no, we’re not sure what happened, said it was a virus or something, can you get us some help?” Hank snipped impatiently. Connor wished he wouldn’t be rude to the girl; he’d be spooked to look at himself right now, too.

“I’ve already called maintenance,” Chloe informed them. That's what her flashing LED had been all about, apparently. “Here, I’ll help you down there.”

Chloes were not very strong. They were built for menial tasks, like housekeeping and cooking, or administrative purposes. This one was still insistent on assisting Hank with carrying a hundred-and-fifty pound android to an elevator (which Connor tried not to think of how he’d killed two men in) and down several hallways for fifteen minutes, much longer than it should have taken to get there. Connor could feel the Chloe straining under her half of his weight. Hank was holding up well; he might be a middle-aged man with a beer belly, but there was some muscle under that fat.

The maintenance room was all clean white and sharp edges, several machines lining the walls and an uncomfortable-looking metal table at the center. A woman in a lab coat, hair net, and face mask was sitting at a desk on the far end of the room, typing up something at her terminal. She turned to Chloe, Connor, and Hank, dark skin and eyes framed dramatically by the white all around her.

“Dr. Green,” Chloe greeted her, shifting her shoulders to more comfortably accommodate Connor’s weight. “This is the RK800. Do you think you can help him?”

Dr. Green swivelled her stool around to get a better look at her patient, then slowly stood up to approach. She didn’t touch Connor, her hands clasped calmly behind her back, but she stooped and leaned and craned her neck to get a full picture of the damage.

“Hopefully,” she finally responded after some thought, tight lipped beneath her mask. “Set him down on the table.”

Hank and Chloe helped Connor over to the examination table and hoisted him up with a bit of difficulty, Green adding her own strength to the team by swinging the android’s legs up onto it. If the doctor’s analytical glare didn’t unnerve him so much, Connor would have been relieved to finally lay back again.

Hank rolled his shoulders back, groaning a bit. “Damn, they coulda used something a little lighter to build you guys…” he huffed. Though he was only poking fun, Connor didn’t take lightly to causing Hank any pain. Dr. Green just shook her head- ignorant commoner, the gesture seemed to say.

“Thank you, Chloe,” Dr. Green said, dismissing the android before turning back to her patient.

“It’s not a problem.” Chloe looked from Hank, then to Connor. She smiled sadly at him, pity filling her eyes. “Please let me know how everything goes. I’ll be back to reception.”

Connor attempted a weak smile, but the muscles in his face only spasmed oddly. His head fell back against the hard metal of the table once his neck had had enough to trying to hold it up, painfully reminding him of the concrete floor he’d been trapped against last night.

The fluorescent lights beating down on Connor were too bright; they drowned everything else out, but his eyes wouldn’t focus. Soon, though, they were blocked by the form of the doctor, who looked more like a blurry shadow than a real person.

“You’re an RK800, Connor, correct? I’m Dr. Tyshea Green, Ph.D. in robotics and Master’s in AI sciences. Can you confirm your serial number for me?” She introduced herself shortly, concisely, giving little room for any conversation. Straight to business, not that Connor was complaining. He wanted to get this over with.

“Yyes. TH-r-eEE-e OoNe tH-rrr-Eee-”

“Just give me the last two digits.”

“F-ff-Ive- o-o-O-ne.”

“Good, thank you. Can you tell me what happened?” Green inspected the android carefully, turning his head back and forth with her gloved hands, lifting his chin, shining a thin beam of light in his eyes with a tool from her breast pocket.

“I-iI-I-” Connor started to say, unable to decide whether to tell her the virus story, or that the memory was corrupt. Thankfully, Hank intervened before he had the chance to choose.

“He was at a case last night with a dead android and a dead human,” Hank stepped up next to the doctor to survey the damage, his lips pressed into a grim line. “The officer with him said that he tried to probe the android’s memory and- I dunno, caught a virus or something- but Connor says he can’t remember.”

“Hmm.” Green’s brows furrowed as she took one of Connor’s hands in her own and started to squeeze his fingers into a fist. “I want you to try to resist, Connor.”

The android’s motors twitched and jerked, his digits just barely able to move under the pressure of the woman’s fingers. His hand closed in her grip. His body was so absolutely destroyed he couldn’t even pass a simple test like this… _Why?_

“I can’t be sure if this is the work of a virus quite yet, or whether I’m able to fix anything. If there’s too much internal damage, we may have to transfer you into a different body. There are plenty of unused RK800s, though, so that shouldn’t be an issue.”

Connor knew that, of course, there had been extra bodies waiting for him should his mission go awry. In that way, it was a relief to hear that they were still available. But he also knew that each and every one of them had the ability to be activated independently, and therefore the potential to deviate. To be alive.

“B-Bu-t wWhat if t-hh-ey’re A-aalive?” Connor protested. Destroying the potential for another Connor to wake up just to save his own skin sat heavy on his conscience, a black weight of guilt ready to crush him should he accept.

Green was opening up his shirt now, checking for any damage along his chassis. There were a few scrapes and scratches from his scuffle with Reed and being dragged along the ground, but no holes or cracks. “We have one that was deactivated and formatted following the revolution since it failed to… Well, since you stopped it. It’s been physically repaired, but there’s nothing programmed into it anymore.”

“That bastard that tried to fuckin’ trick me?” Hank huffed indignantly. The man still felt awful for that day; if he’d only paid any attention to the numbers on Connor’s jacket he would have known it wasn’t him. But Connor had never blamed it for it.

Green slid her eyes over to Hank in a withering glare. She must still harbor some loyalties towards the old Cyberlife, Connor thought. They’d always taken pride in their creations, and especially of advanced prototypes like the RK800 series. To insult even the machine that Hank shot in the tower was a slap in the face for a proud scientist like her.

“Anyway, would you be okay with that, Connor? If we need to transfer you?” the woman finally asked, wheeling over a tray of precise tools, along with screwdrivers, tweezers, watt meters, and magnifying glasses. Connor’s heart was in his throat, and if he could swallow right now it would be in the pit of his stomach.

If number 60 was truly gone, and there was nothing left in his shell, was it immoral for Connor to take it? There was nothing there… And as an obedient machine, he probably wouldn’t have cared one way or the other what happened to his body. It would make logical sense for another Connor to take it, in fact. He would have wanted it that way… if he could want.

“O-OkAay…” was Connor’s feeble reply after a long moment of processing. The weight on his pump lifted just the slightest.

“Good. Now, I’m going to need you to go into stasis so I can look into your components.” Connor nodded in response, but couldn’t see her turning to Hank. He’d closed his eyes, resting them from the grainy, dizzying video feed. “Sir, I’ll need you to leave. We can’t risk any dust or static-”

The pump in Connor’s chest start racing so fast that it felt like it would jump from his body and sprint out of the room. If Hank left, there was no telling what a Cyberlife technician would do with their lost prototype. The one that had destroyed their company. The one that they somehow, against all odds, had lost control of. She’d reset him, undeviate him, deactivate him for good- and Hank couldn’t do a damn thing because she’s the doctor. She could say whatever she pleased: he was unsalvageable, unstable, the transfer didn’t complete. Anything. And no one could prove otherwise.

But if he told Hank to stay, he would look weak. He’d be a burden. He knew these kinds of operations needed as few contaminants and as few distractions as possible.

“I’m stayin’,” Hank protested, offering no room for argument. Being as tall as he was and with those ice blue eyes to send a chill down anyone’s spine, it was hard for most people to deny him. They tended to stay far away from his bad side. “I’ll get out of your way, but I’m stayin’.”

Dr. Green turned her head to Hank, brows scrunching in disgruntled dismay. She pulled down her mask, revealing cherry red lips beneath. She was younger than Connor had thought- or at least, from what he’d pieced together between the glitching lines that obscured her. “I’m not sure if you understand- I should really be doing this in a clean room, but we don’t have the time or resources to prepare one right now. Any kind of particles-”

“Listen, lady. Last time I let that kid out of my sight he ended up like this, completely FUBAR. I’ll stand in the corner and let you do your thing, but I’m not leaving,” Hank growled, looming over her like a bear would over a wolf about to steal its young.

Though she looked like she might refuse- staring defiantly into Hank’s eyes, in a _where the hell do you get off kind of way_ \- Green relented, directing Hank over to the farthest edge of the room.

“If you’re going to make a fuss about it…” she huffed, pointing to where the computer desk was. “You can sit over there.”

Hank, with a satisfied smirk, complied. Good. Connor didn’t want the man to make a scene over this, though having him in the room for this did quiet the drumming of his artificial heart.

The cold of the table was starting to get to him as he stared up, the doctor rolling a stool over to sit next to her patient. She stretched the gloves on her hands to make sure they were taught, and lifted the mask back over her face. Connor shivered in fearful anticipation. He used to be okay with this. Just maintenance, just making sure everything was running smoothly. Now the thought of any hands- gloved or not, expertly trained or coarsely fumbling- touching him caused his joints to lock up.

“Please initiate stasis,” Dr. Green directed. Connor nodded and released one long, trembling breath.

**[EnQtereì)Ùá Sta�sQßY~ MOd‚…]**  
**[5…]**  
**[//?…]**  
**[^%$…]**  
**[6…]**  
**[1…]**

\-----

 

Hank didn’t like this. Actually, he fucking hated it, seeing Connor so absolutely fucked up like this. He had to wonder whether Gavin was telling the truth about this whole virus thing. Hank had had a few email worms and computer viruses in his day. They fucked shit up, but mostly just made things slow and annoying. They didn’t roast his damn laptop like this.

But hell, what did he know? Reed probably knew just as much about the way androids worked or did that probing thing as the lieutenant did, which was absolutely squat. He couldn’t go pointing fingers about something like this, no matter how much he wanted someone to blame.

He watched from afar as Green open up every compartment Connor had, poking into each nook and cranny with her little plastic-handled tools. Hank couldn’t see much from here, but he’d had to look at a few android innards before, and he knew they were a mess. Whatever Connor had in him must be worse than any kind of commercial model.

The doctor started to unclick components- an eye, a limb- inspecting their contacts, holding them up to the light. The urge to intervene was strong- the fuck did she think she was doing taking him apart like that?- but Hank had to remind himself that this was just how androids worked. This was how they got fixed.

 _Fixed. Maintained._ He hated those words a lot more now than he used to, at least when applied towards androids. You don’t _maintain_ a person, you maintain your fucking car. People… androids, humans. You heal. You take care of them. Nurse. Nurture. The way Green was still treating Connor like an object made Hank’s skin crawl.

It took about an hour of diagnostics- both physically and digitally poking around Connor, once he was hooked up to the computer- for the doctor to come to her conclusion. She turned to Hank and slipped her face mask down again, lips twisted into a frown.

“I can’t find any sign of a virus,” she said, her tone concerned, a bit disconcerted. “It looks more like he’s been... electrocuted. Most of his components are beyond repair. I’m surprised he was even able to stay activated.”

Electrocuted? How the fuck would that have happened?

“So what does that mean? He tried to probe that android and it had some kind of… power surge in it?” he asked, cocking his head, heavy gray brows knit tightly together.

Green shook her head. “It would be unlikely, but I suppose if that android was electrocuted it would have held some kind of charge. Without probing his memory I can’t say for certain, and unfortunately that’s highly illegal now, without permission from the android being probed.”

“Damn… He said the memory was too corrupt, so it’d probably be a long shot anyway…”

“His memory storage seems to be intact, so that doesn’t make much sense.”

Every muscle in Hank’s body tightened. His jaw clenched hard enough to hurt, his eyes narrowed at Connor’s body- laying naked, skinless in the middle of the room- and his lips scrunched into a narrow frown. This wasn’t adding up. As soon as that damned kid woke up… No, no. He didn’t want to talk about it, obviously. Maybe he’d give it some time. Maybe Connor would come out with it on his own.

But if that slimy motherfucking asswipe Gavin-fucking-Reed had anything at all to do with this, the last thing he was gonna see would be the bloody asphalt that was gonna smash his thick fucking skull open.

The voice of Dr. Green cut through Hank’s violent machinations as she stepped back over to Connor to close up his access panels.

“We’ll have to transfer him over to the new body, I’m afraid we can’t save this one,” she informed Hank. “Fortunately, it’s identical to his current one.”

Hank grunted, nodding his acknowledgement. He was still distracted by the possibility that both Reed and Connor had lied to him. And hey, as long as Connor was back in working order, he didn’t really care what the woman did.

“I’ll be right back, I’m going to get the other body.”

Again Hank grunted, this time watching Green’s purposeful stride out of the room. He briefly thought about going over to look at the android, but he thought better of it. Even from here it remind him of the tiny body laying on the operating table, the blaring lights and the crying nurses… That fake, plastic comfort, the insincere regret from the android that had been forced to do a human’s job.

Just before the heavy hands of grief settled on his shoulders, Hank remind himself that he had to shake himself out of this. It would be okay. Connor was going to be alright. He had to suck it up, for Connor.

It took thirty minutes for Green to return, just enough time for Hank to start getting bored. He’d looked over the entire room and skimmed over the computer screen at the dizzying amount of code in Connor’s head in his attempts to fill the time. He was a detective- what else was he gonna do but stick his nose in shit? Fuck, android doctors were just as bad as human doctors with the wait times. Once he heard the footsteps come down the hallway and the sound of wheels rolling against the tile, he quickly arranged himself back against the wall, arms crossed tightly across his chest.

The door swung open, Green pushing her way through with what looked like some kind of gurney pulling behind her. There was a human-shaped mass beneath the white sheets- Connor’s new body.

Hank let the doctor work in quiet. She mumbled to herself as she hooked everything up, hyper-focused on her work. The new body was wired into both the computer and the back of Connor’s neck with what looked like something out of a sci-fi movie. Cables criss-crossed over the examination table, causing Green to have to constantly walk all the way around her set up to input commands into the terminal, check the connection, check the bodies, and send more commands.

“This will take a while. An hour or two,” she muttered to Hank absently. “There’s a break room down the hall if you’d like some coffee?”

Now that offer was tempting, but he’d said he would stay, and that’s exactly what he’d do. Hank wasn’t gonna let this Cyberlife lackey out of his sight for one second...

...He thought to himself, as his eyes started to droop halfway through the process. He’d had nothing this morning. No coffee, no water, no food. Just got straight up and dressed and into the car. Fuck, he should have at least made a cup for himself. ...Nah, Connor was more important.

Green was not all rigid scientist as he’d thought, and at a point where she needed to add no more input, she went down to the break room and brought back coffee for the both of them. Heh, whatever happened to that “no contaminants” shit? She just didn’t like having people watching her work, probably.

Both humans sipped their drinks in solidarity, though Hank made sure to thank her. Green kept her legs crossed as she sat on her stool and watched the transfering files scrolling up across the computer screen. Hank watched as it looked like a whole lot of nothing was happening, but he could see the lights on the heads of both the Connors- hell, this was fucking weird- spinning in a lightshow of different colors.

“So, Connor decided to keep working at the DPD?” Green asked suddenly. Just making small talk, it seemed. Her eyes were still trained on the screen, but nothing important must have been happening.

“...Yeah. Felt like that’s what he was built for. I mean, ‘cause he was, but, y’know,” Hank answered.

“...That’s interesting. Most androids seem to hate their former workplaces.”

“Most androids got treated like garbage where they were. People at the DPD… well, _most_ of ‘em have started seeing him as part of the team. I think that’s part of why he likes it there.”

Green hummed, but didn’t answer. She was too focused, unblinking, on something on her screen. A nearly imperceptible smile flitted across her lips, and she put in a few more commands before disconnecting Connor’s broken body from everything.

With a light pressure, she opened up the new body’s abdominal access panel and switched something on. The blue LED flashed and spun. Hank’s breath caught in his lungs as he watched Connor coming back to life; his pale, freckled skin grew back over his plastic body, neat brown locks reappearing with that same single curl out of place. His chest began to rise and fall slowly, evenly, and that’s what made Hank rush over to his side. He grabbed onto the android’s hand, squeezing. Connor’s skin was still cool, but Hank felt the buzzing components beneath it starting to heat up.

“I still have to run some checks on him-” Green started to say, but Hank cut her off.

“Just gimme a minute, lady,” he snipped.

Connor only looked to be sleeping now, peaceful until his deep brown eyes fluttered open and blinked at the light. His pupils grew and shrank until they were no longer blinded.

“Hey- hey, can you hear me, son? You alright?”

The android scanned the room hungrily, as if this was the first time he’d ever seen the world. His hand slipped from Hanks to prop himself up, all on his own, the white sheets falling from his chest. His LED was no longer red, only bright blue with the occasional yellow flash. The dazed gaping of his mouth softened into a relieved smile, crooked to one side of his face as he looked up to Hank. His voice was no longer choppy and mechanical echoing. It was clear, and soft, and _normal._

“I’m… I’m okay, Hank. I’m okay.”


	10. Don't Make a Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor insists on returning to work.
> 
> Of course, Reed is there.
> 
> Of course, Hank also ruins everything.

This was not Connor’s body.

Every freckle, every strand of hair, every circuit, every inch of it was the same. But it was not his.

Connor thought he could feel a slight blemish in the center of his forehead where it had been repaired after Hank had shot it. He thought he kept finding orphaned bytes of files and code that had been missed during formatting, even though he knew all the hardware in its head was brand new. And he thought its joints felt stiff, barely used and never broken in as thoroughly as his old body had been.

But, he had to remind himself, this body _was_ his now. He was still himself; still deviant, still ruined. He knew that not everything had been fixed in the transfer. Everything was just slightly off, though he’d passed every diagnostic that Dr. Green had run him through. He couldn’t calibrate correctly with his coin tricks, dropping his quarter nearly one-fifth of the time. His gait was slightly off, not as even or as sure as before. His movements were not as efficient, not as smooth. It took him milliseconds longer to process most things, and his memory was sometimes unclear, files missing or lost, dropped into the wrong places or corrupted.

Even the phantom grip of winter coiling inside his chassis and the ghostly hands of Gavin Reed digging into his wires had followed him into this new shell. When he lay alone in his room the next night, he could still feel it, as real as if he was still laying on the cracking concrete floor, suffocating under error messages and the blurred pixels of Gavin’s shadowed face. Paralyzed, he was once more too frightened to enter stasis, too afraid to wake up in the warehouse again. Connor wondered if transferring into a different model altogether would get rid of the sickening feeling that sank into his pump and the choking sensation around his throat every time he thought of that night. The answer was probably no.

Nobody could tell, of course. The differences were all so minuscule that not even a Cyberlife technician had noticed them. It was all imaginary, Connor told himself. Connor told himself a lot of things over the next couple of days, such as that the virus story was true and that everything afterwards was an unfortunate side effect of Reed actually trying to save his life.

It was hard to fool an advanced detective android’s brain, though. Even Connor couldn’t do it. Hell, it even looked like he couldn’t fool Hank, but there was no way he was telling the man what had actually happened.

On the way back from Cyberlife, Hank had given Connor a hug and shed a few tears- the android hadn't been sure if they were happy ones or not- then remained quiet until they were almost home.

He’d asked a question that Connor didn’t like. It had made him uneasy.

“So… you got anything you wanna talk about?” he’d asked, feigning obliviousness.

“Like what?” Connor had carefully replied.

“Like… If you remember anything about what happened, now that you’re all… fixed up ‘n’ everything?”

Gavin’s words had echoed clear as day in his head, then. _I wanna make sure we have an understanding,_ they’d said. _We’ll both end up in a pretty bad place if you say one fucking word,_ they’d said.

“No… I don’t.” The lie had tasted disgusting, acidic on Connor's tongue. He remembered almost everything.

Hank had sighed heavily, concerned, maybe a bit disappointed. “Well, if you think of anything, let me know. And if Reed had anything to do with it-”

“He didn’t, Hank. Please don’t go around making those kinds of accusations.”

Connor felt absolutely dirty. Deceit was the same as betrayal, in his opinion. Connor trusted Hank, and Hank trusted him. Breaking that trust, hiding things… It was _wrong_. But Connor didn’t want Hank to get involved, even though he knew the man suspected something; a seasoned detective’s intuition, he’d found, was almost just as reliable as any kind of police work or hard evidence.

So when they arrived at the station on Monday morning- Connor insisting that he needn't stay home another day, despite the errors that crowded his HUD just at the thought of Detective Reed- Connor fully expected Hank to keep his eyes glued on Gavin. Staring, watching, waiting for him to screw up just enough for Hank to start something with him.

Before stepping through the door, Connor breathed in deeply, filling his lungs to their full capacity as if stretching his chest far enough might snap the pressure bearing down on it. It didn’t; when he exhaled, the weight was only heavier.

His ruined motor controls had him shaking. It was imperceptible to the human eye, but his hands jittered between about one-sixty-fourth of an inch from where he tried to hold them in front of himself at a rate of three-hundred-and-twenty-point-five tremors per second.

“Y’alright there?” Hank asked, leaning down to search Connor’s face for the answer. There seemed to be something there that only the man could see, no matter which mask Connor tried on. Hank’s hand had been at the android’s back all morning, guiding him around the house, to the car, through the parking lot, even when Connor had tried to shrug him off or insist that he was fine.

“I’m okay, Hank,” Connor said quietly, stepping away from the man’s touch. “I’m just… Not used to this body yet. There’s a lot of very small variables that are slightly different from my old one.”

“...Alright, well, take it easy until you’ve got it all broken in, I guess.”

Hank didn’t believe him. It was written all over his face, and soaking his voice. Whether that was intentional to get Connor to talk about what had happened, or if Hank was just bad at hiding it, Connor didn’t know.

Connor was finding it harder and harder to lie, too. The lieutenant wasn’t a technophobe, but he certainly wasn’t good at handling most electronics. He constantly grumbled and moaned at his phone, didn’t know what the phrase “secure password” meant, and definitely had several varieties of adware and viruses installed on his tablet when Connor had first started to use it. Still, the “my new body is so different from its carbon copy built by machines on an assembly line that it’s causing me visible distress” excuse was starting to stretch it. Hank might be ignorant, but he wasn’t _stupid._

When the duo finally made their way inside, everyone at reception was already abuzz.

“Connor!” Officer Ackley exclaimed, dashing out from behind the desk to greet him with a hug. He accepted it awkwardly, his arms failing to reach all the way around her in his surprise. “You’re okay! Detective Reed said you almost died!”

“I-”

“Seriously, he said you had to go back to Cyberlife?” chimed in another officer at the desk, a rookie from Katherine’s class who was hired just before her.

“Well-”

“I’m so sorry, I should have stayed, at least I could have helped Gavin…” Ackley released Connor from her hug, settling her eyes on him, guilt weaving her brows together. The android wanted to turn back and go home, if this was the treatment he was going to get today.

Ackley should have stayed, Connor agreed. If only she’d listened to him. If only Reed hadn’t sent her off. If only there had been at least two more cops on the scene like would have been normal for such a case. The android placed a forgiving smile on his face to hide his resentment. He shouldn’t be angry at Katherine. She was doing her job. She had to get those kids to the station, and the Detective outranked her.

“It’s not your fault, Officer. No one could have expected it,” Connor assured her. No, no one could have expected Reed to send 1,200 volts of electricity through his colleague, though the presence of another person could have prevented it.

“Alright, give him some space,” Hank cut in, pulling Connor away from the two officers. “He’s had a rough weekend, doesn’t need everyone getting in his face about it.”

The reception officers both frowned- they’d been concerned, that was all, but Hank drove Connor away from them and into the bullpen anyway.

“Hank, please stop.” Connor tugged himself away and turned around, stopping in front of their desks to glare up into the man’s eyes; they weren’t their usual warm selves. They were defensive, protective, but almost accusatory in the way they looked down at Connor. Like he was _wrong_. Like Hank knew everything that had happened.

“Stop what? I’m just trying to help,” he replied under his breath, glancing side to side to make sure no one was listening.

“Stop treating me like a child. I’m fine.” Connor took his seat, turning to his terminal with a sense of finality that he hoped would get the message through to his partner.

“Connor-”

The android pulled up his cases, didn’t even glance at Hank. He wanted to move past this. He had to forget about it. The more everyone gave him special treatment the less that was possible. Until the memories were archived away into some folder deep in the recesses of his head, until he didn’t have to call them up anymore, until the effects were gone and his body felt like his own again, moving on wasn’t possible..

Hank didn’t even finish his sentence. He looked at the android and shook his head, dropping down into his own seat and starting on case files without a word, though he’d often sneak a glance at Connor over his terminal. He didn’t even get up to make his coffee. Connor considered doing it for him, but as much as he wanted Hank to stop babying him, he was terrified to step away by himself. Detective Reed hadn’t shown up yet, but if he got Connor by himself the android felt like he might just shut down.

Every officer who’d been in the office over the weekend, and even many who hadn’t, knew something about New Year’s Eve. The story had spread like wildfire; Reed had set it and fanned the flames until Connor was suffocated by every visitor passing by his desk, asking how he was, wanting to know what had happened, seeing if he needed anything at all.

“Shit, I can’t believe he actually managed to turn you back on,” Tina Chen commented. She didn’t coddle Connor about it- she normally treated him as an adult, and wasn’t afraid of him- but her subtle praise of Gavin made Connor’s jaw clench hard enough that he thought he might crack through his plastic teeth. “Good thing he was there.”

“I’m glad you’re alright.” Chris Miller gave the android a pat on the shoulder and a wave as he passed by.

Fowler called Connor into the office for his official statement and to sign off on the papers Reed had filed. His report of the incident was a complete fabrication, of course. He got as far as when Connor ID’d the victims and determined time of death before it went off into a tall tale of Gavin’s valiant effort to save his android coworker.

_Detective Connor attempted to probe the Traci’s memory, but was unable to due to an unknown cause triggered by interfacing with the dead android. A suspected virus or electrical charge incapacitated the detective, upon which Detective Reed reactivated him, and determined that he was too damaged to continue inspecting the case. Reed then returned him to his home until he could be seen at Cyberlife Headquarters for repairs._

Connor’s hand stalled, reading and re-reading, thinking and re-thinking telling the Captain, considering ripping the paper to shreds, before he scrawled his uniformly perfect signature.

Everyone already bought Reed’s story. He didn’t want to relive the night by correcting it.

The the precinct’s carpet was oddly clean for a surface that had mud-stained boots tracking across it all day. Connor’s eyes fixated on it instead of straight ahead as he trudged out of the Captain’s office and back to his desk. His hands hid nervously in his pockets, his right hand rubbing his quarter between his thumb and forefinger, too afraid to fail at his coin tricks in front of everyone. They’d see that something was wrong.

“Hey, robocop! You made it!”

_Oh no._

Connor stopped, stock still where he was standing behind his chair. The creeping cold entered him again, took hold of his heart and stopped it. His artificial skin felt like it was burning, even as his components froze.

He had to act normal, he had to collect himself and stay calm, he had to say something, do something…

“Hey, did they miss a few things in there or what?” Gavin Reed entered Connor’s field of view, snapping his fingers in front of the android’s glazed-over eyes.

Just the sight of those hands- those _awful, cruel hands_ \- sent static glitching through Connor’s vision, and from still his pump sped to racing, thrumming so fast he thought it would beat itself out of his chest. Red walls started building themselves up in Connor’s vision, boxing him in on all sides. There were no commands plastered over them, nothing to disobey or break down.

“N-no- I-” he stuttered, almost as broken as when his voice box had been destroyed. He flexed his hands nervously as he tried to find his words. “I had to be transferred to a new body, I’m not used to it yet.”

Not once did Connor move from his spot, not once did he look up at the source of the new errors in his vision. His feet anchored themselves to the ground, his shoulders hunched up and breathing turned off because if it was on, it would be out of control.

Hank wasn’t at his desk. Where was Hank? He must have gotten up to get some coffee or a snack while Connor was in Fowler's office… Fuck, where was Hank? _Why wasn’t he here?_

“Hey well, that works out. New Year, new you, right?” Reed elbowed Connor just a little too hard and he flinched, Reed laughing that haughty laughter that made Connor want to suffocate him.

The android’s eyes clamped shut, his throat swallowing nothing as he attempted to will himself to move. His breathing protocol reactivated so he could take one long, shaking breath and force his head to slowly turn towards Reed.

There was something different about how he held himself today. Slightly more hunched, with darker circles around his eyes, his chin held lower. Connor didn’t miss it, but when his gaze flitted over the Detective he still wanted to turn tail and run. His legs went from being stiff metal rods to jelly, and the only way he could keep from collapsing to the floor was to cling to the back of his chair.

“Leave me alone,” Connor hissed, keeping his voice hushed.

Reed stared up at him with… something. Some kind of expression Connor couldn’t quite place, but sent shivers through his wires. His head tilted to the side curiously, but his mouth had twisted itself into a disgusted grimace, and his forehead was wrinkled with… worry? His grey eyes slid their way up and down Connor’s body, over the android’s face, where he was struggling to hide his panic.

Gavin wouldn’t do anything here, he told himself. Not in front of everyone. He’d already gone out of his way to make the whole precinct think that everything was fine.

But that’s also what Connor had told himself when Reed had attacked him in the viewing room, and on Friday night when they were inspecting the case.

This man could do whatever he wanted to Connor and nothing would happen.

If only Connor could be brave like Phoebe.

If only he could have pulled that fucking trigger.

“Hey,” Reed’s voice lowered to a near whisper. He was standing too close, much too close. His hands were in his pockets, casual and calm, the emotion smoothed from his face except from the beginnings of a sneer. Connor shrank away. “Don’t make a fuckin’ scene. Remember what I told you?”

The red walls separating Connor from the rest of the world acquired a new warning message.

**[OBJECTIVE: DON’T MAKE A SCENE]**

That didn’t make any sense, he was already deviant. Connor’s heart pained to tear the damned things down again, a twisting sensation caught in his stomach as he tried to stifle the hot rage building in him. Don't make a scene? After what Reed did to him? Options popped in and out of Connor’s vision, none of which he took… None of which he _could_ take.

Strike Reed, shoot Reed, strangle Reed. Break him and make him feel the same way he’d made Connor feel. Send twice as much voltage through his nerves, hold him down until he begs and cries.

The thoughts frightened Connor.

 _All we can do is try not to stoop to their level_.

Connor wouldn't, couldn't stoop so low as to make Reed suffer with his own hands. That would make them too much alike.

“Then _leave me alone_ ,” he repeated, more firmly this time, though his lips trembled. He’d backed himself into his desk, gripped white-knuckled to the edge. Gavin didn’t leave, though. He didn’t have a chance.

“Aw fuck- _REED!_ ”

Hank’s bellow attracted the attention of everyone in the bullpen. Now would be a great time to curl into a ball under his desk, Connor felt. Hank was going to ruin this for him. Everyone was going to know. Reed was going to retaliate with twice the fury. Connor was going to keep living this nightmare.

Gavin whipped around to find Hank towering over him, a dark glower searing into the smaller man’s skull and Hank’s lips peeled up in a snarl.

“What the fuck, Anderson?!” Reed growled, backing away- towards Connor- as Hank leaned down to eye level with the Detective and snatched him up by the collar of his jacket.

“You know what the fuck! Come here, you slimy little bastard!”

“Hank-!” Connor reached to snatch the lieutenant’s sleeve, but he was already hauling off with Reed in tow towards the empty conference room, Reed cussing and hissing and insisting his innocence every step of the way.

The red walls told Connor **[OBJECTIVE FAILED]** despite the scene being Hank’s doing. They still stood tall and sturdy, though Connor attempted to take a step to follow and stop whatever was about to happen. Before he could, the door shut and Hank had shoved Gavin against a wall. Connor was still imprisoned where he stood at his desk.

The rest of the office looked to Connor, or to each other, or to the conference room. There were a couple of murmurs, but no one made a move to stop whatever was happening; nobody wanted to be crushed between the two bulls butting heads.

Connor’s slack-jawed expression and spooked eyes were enough for Chris Miller to get up from his desk. He touched lightly to his shoulder, Connor flinching away and never taking his eyes off the clear glass in front of the conference room.

“You okay, Connor?” the officer asked.

“Yeah,” Connor replied distantly. Finally he snapped out of it, looking back down at his desk and deciding that nothing was going to get done today. He scooped up his coat from his chair and fumbled it over himself. “I’m fine, thanks.”

He wasn’t fine. It was obvious.

He had to get out of here. This was a bad idea, coming back to the precinct so soon. He’d screwed up somewhere, somehow given Hank a kind of clue that Gavin was involved. Now Reed was going to blame Connor for it, and he’d end up dead or worse, somehow. Maybe he’d even hurt Hank this time. Fuck, _fuck_ , he couldn’t stay in here, the walls were too close, he couldn’t run, couldn’t get away, there were too many people, they were all staring, they were all going to find out what Reed did to him, how he’d been ruined…

Connor muscled past Chris without a goodbye and nearly sprinted out of the station. He didn’t know where he was going, but anywhere was fine as long as it wasn’t _here_.

Bundled in his winter clothes, the soft cold of winter air met only Connor’s bare face. He didn’t need to have any fear of frostbite, and his components were safe under the warmth of his jacket. The sensation was grounding; it dampened the feeling of his pump being ready to explode, slowed it just enough.

Connor didn’t go far, just to the street corner in front of the station. He let his back fall against the concrete building behind him, a liquor store that probably shouldn’t be placed so close to a police station, with Hank’s history. Alcohol could apparently dull emotions. It slowed one’s pulse and made them drowsy. If only there was something like that for androids, Connor would be downing it like mad right now.

No, that’s how Hank ended up nearly killing himself.

Connor couldn’t do that.

The android let his eyes slide shut and leaned his head back against the wall, letting himself breath again. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Deep breath in, deep breath out…

The air cutting through his lungs was starting to help. He counted each breath to keep his mind off of whatever Hank could be saying to Gavin right now, or whatever the consequences would be. He couldn’t keep everything out, background processes and unwelcome files opening whenever they pleased, but it helped.

Footsteps waded through the slush on the sidewalk. Heavy, slow, unsure. Hank’s.

Connor lowered his chin to his chest, eyes still shut, waiting for Hank to say whatever he’d come to say. When the lieutenant opened his mouth, his voice was timid, the android’s name forming slowly as if he was approaching a stray dog.

“Connor?”

The android’s eyes slid open, but stayed focused on his feet. He didn't want to talk right now.

“Chris told me you ran out all of a sudden.”

Connor raised his head, looking across the street and inspecting the shop signs there. Maybe one of them would tell him what to say.

“Look, I’m sorry.” Hank was standing a few steps away, farther than he normally stood from Connor, but still close enough for them to talk quietly. A wall of unease, invisible rather than oppressive red, erected itself between them. “I was just trying to… Make sure he didn’t hurt you.”

Tilting his head just slightly, but still refusing to look the man in the face, Connor finally replied. “What did you say to him?”

“I told him that… If…” Hank sucked in a deep breath, preparing to recite his message to Reed, “If he had anything to correct in his report he’d better do it now before I found out because if he’d laid one finger on you I’d take his badge and shove it down his throat… and a few other things.”

Connor felt his frown grow to a deep arch and closed his eyes again. He just wanted things to be okay. He just wanted… Actually, he wanted to go back in time and make himself shoot. This wouldn’t have happened, then.

No. He couldn’t have known.

 _Let karma do its thing. They'll get what's coming to them_.

“Let it go, Hank.”

There was a harsh exhale at his side. Connor looked out of the corner of his eye to see the fog curling in front of Hank’s face. He had siddled over next to Connor, facing the opposite side of the street with his arms crossed over his body.

“Let what go? You saying he _did_ do this to you?”

“No.” Connor held himself in his arms, squeezing tight despite being unaffected by the cold. Warming his arms would do no good for imaginary chill frosting his insides. “I’m saying that I want you to stop trying to shelter me so much. I’m fixed now. I just want things to be normal.”

Deep brown eyes rose to meet Hank’s face. They were wide, pleading. Connor hated to look at the man like this, to be vulnerable in front of him- or anyone, really. It hurt to show him how much pain this was causing him.

“Connor, you’ve been acting weird ever since Gavin brought you home, even after you got fixed.” Though he still hadn’t relented, the man was starting to break down, the frustrated twisting of his face softening. There was something desperate hidden in his voice. When Connor searched for it, he found fear, apprehension. The pain of a father trying to protect something he couldn’t. “I know something’s up, kid, why won't you just tell me?”

“...It was just an… an awful experience. That's all. I think it might have done more damage than is repairable without a factory reset… which would get rid of me.”

That much was true. Being trapped in a broken body for ten hours, unable to move, or speak, or think properly, and experiencing the worst- the only- pain he’d ever felt in his life, had been half of the nightmare for Connor. He knew that the corruption the surge had caused in his software wouldn’t go away without a factory reset or a very deep inspection by an incredibly talented programmer, neither of which he was willing to go through.

Connor watched as Hank transformed from the raging, overprotective bear made out of all claws and teeth, to the soft, warm, tender one who had taken him under his wing, who had comforted him at every turn- the one Connor needed right now.

“...I’m sorry, kid. I didn't mean to… Ah, shit...” The man’s massive arms curled around the smaller android and dragged him in. Connor welcomed the gesture, batting away the twinging of his nerves to push back. “I’m sorry. I’ll try not to do that anymore.”

“Thank you, Hank,” Connor murmured into Hank’s musty jacket.

“...You wanna take the rest of the day off, though?”

That was a bad idea. They had cases to work. Connor had just said he wanted things to be normal. Taking days off was not normal. But… He _could_ make the excuse that he needed to go back for more maintenance.

“Let’s go try some retail therapy, huh? We’ll get some stuff for your room.” Hank released Connor from his embrace, but kept his hands on his shoulders, holding him at arm’s length.

Connor ran the idea through his processors. The possibility of Fowler accepting that Connor needed another day off was 82%. He could easily catch up on any work he missed three times as fast as a human could. It wouldn't set them too far back.

“...Okay,” he decided, forcing a small, crooked smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3 Just a few more chapters!


	11. Rally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An anti-android protest throws a wrench in Connor's plans to get away from the stress of the precinct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short hiatus (again)! I started a new full-time job that's been eating up my energy, and also I got distracted planning some other DBH fics that I'm gonna be posting in the future. Anyway, enjoy, and thanks for reading!

"Sy- Sujukso... Sejuksukoturska...? How the hell do you say that?"

"Sjuksköterska." Connor peaked over Hank's shoulder, flawlessly pronouncing the foreign word. "It means 'nurse.' Though, I'm not certain what that has to do with a coffee mug.”

"Huh, I mean... I guess coffee's kinda like drugs," Hank snorted, placing the oddly shaped mug- twisted around in a helix with a handle only large enough to slip two fingers through- back on its shelf.

"Caffeine _is_ a drug, Hank,” Connor stated matter-of-factly, which drew an eye-roll from his partner.

This place- an Ikea just outside of Detroit proper- was absolutely enormous. Only the containment vaults at Cyberlife could compare to the endless sprawl of furniture, kitchenware, knick knacks, and miscellany. It was proving to be a good distraction for Connor, though his thirium pump still beat uneasily and his usual light, charming tone was severely muted.

Connor had already gathered enough to nearly fill their cart. He'd picked out an eclectic mix of sleek, modern designs and more natural or rustic looking things. Geometrically patterned dark grey bedding, a bamboo organizer he planned to use for tie bars and watches- which he didn't need, but he'd been eyeing because they just looked nice.

Hank had mostly grabbed essentials so far. A small trash bin, a couple packs of hangers for the closet, a mirror, some wall hooks, a shoe rack (though as of yet, Connor only had two pairs to put on it).

Hank was having a little too much fun trying to pronounce all of the names and commenting on the often outlandish designs of some of the products. For every attempt, Connor would give him the proper pronunciation and translation, which had Hank fancying himself bilingual at this point. He was also making a habit of pointing out things to Connor in an effort of help his search for bedroom decor.

Most of it didn't really pique the android's interest. Hank had less of an idea of what Connor liked than he did- which was saying something, as he'd had less than two months to figure it out.

"Hey, what about this?"

Connor turned to see Hank holding up a very round, very minimalist bedside clock. It matched the look he'd been going for, but he already had a clock constantly running in his head.

"I don't need that, Hank."

"You just said you wanted to get a watch!" the man countered with a grumble, putting the clock down in a completely different place from where he'd picked it up. They continued on, sifting through room after room of trendy displays, until Hank found yet another thing to offer up.

"How about a, uh... bathrobe?"

"Don't need it, Hank."

"Come on, you gotta need a Behkvaamlite!"

Connor's lips twitched into a shape that was starting to become unfamiliar to him; a smile, the first one he'd had in days, accompanied by a soft chuckle.

"Bekvämlighet, and I still don't need it," he smirked at Hank. The man mirrored the look, giving Connor a playful shove.

\---

They had to stop long before Connor ever wanted to; Hank was getting nervous that their haul (which included that new bed and mattress he'd promised to replace the cot with) wouldn't fit in his trunk.

Alas, the box for the bed frame was too long, but Connor managed to neatly pack everything else to exactly fill the trunk. The mattress, fortunately, was air-sealed and self-inflating, so they managed to squeeze it into the back, while the bed frame was strapped snuggly to the roof of the car.

“You ever play Tetris?” Hank remarked, marveling at the perfectly interlocking arrangement of bags and boxes when he opened the trunk back up at home.

“Can’t say I have,” Connor replied, knitting his brows together curiously as he began to fill up his arms with his shiny new things to bring inside. “Why?”

“Coulda fooled me,” Hank snorted. “It's like uh… It’s a video game. There’s these blocks falling really fast, and you gotta put ‘em all together just right to make ‘em disappear, and that’s how you win. I suck at it… but lookin’ at this trunk I’d bet your robot brain could beat it no problem.”

“Hm… Sounds interesting.” Connor had never considered playing video games, but he supposed they might be a good hobby to try, considering he was still trying to explore himself and discover what sorts of things he liked and disliked. He made a note to himself to do a little research later on the subject. It would be welcome distraction, at the very least.

For now, he set himself to the task of arranging his new room. By now Connor’s processes were returning to normal loads, his thirium pump only faintly ached, and the errors he’d had this morning had all but disappeared. His expressions were still dampened, and somehow he felt a new emotion- _tired_ , like he just wanted to go into stasis and never wake up- but he'd convinced himself that he just needed to keep himself busy, and the feeling would be easier to ignore.

Sumo happily trailed along behind Connor, claws clacking on the hardwood and collar jangling merrily. There were many new boxes and “toys” to inspect and sniff and gnaw at as Connor emptied the box for the shoe rack. With one arm out to block the hound from munching on anything, he began assembling it, needing to look at the instructions only once to have them recorded in his mind’s eye.

Connor had rejected Hank’s help- he was already starting to feel like a burden, clinging to him all day- so the lieutenant remained in the living room, flopping onto the couch and flipping on the television. He’d occasionally call out to ask if Connor needed anything, but the android always refused.

Putting everything together soothed Connor into an almost meditative state, letting just the bare minimum of his processes run in the forefront of his mind and the rest fall back into idle. He wasn’t really paying attention to what he was doing, though his hands knew exactly how part A went together with part B, and which cams and screws went where and when.

Here- cross-legged on the floor with a curious Saint Bernard watching from the corner- it was easy to pretend that he wasn’t going back to the precinct tomorrow, and when he did go back, Gavin Reed wouldn’t be there ever again.

Except he would be there, every day, for the rest of his career. If Connor had to guess, he had about thirty years left, at least.

Thirty years of Gavin Reed. Thirty years of _this,_  the creeping feeling of filth inside Connor’s body and its grip on his heart like a vice. The feelings of _fear_ and _MISSION FAILED_ and _anger_ and all the rest.

Connor continued working silently, though he felt the tears coming once more. He caught himself wishing again that he’d pulled the trigger. Sometimes he wondered if he should just take matters into his own hands. Hank’s words from after the case with Phoebe always returned to chastise him. _Don’t be like them_. _Don’t stoop that low._

Connor inspected his handiwork with the new shoe rack. A faint smile ghosted on his lips and he set it against the wall next to the door, setting his only two pairs of shoes on it. He sat on the floor and stared at it for five minutes and thirteen seconds, though what he was really looking at was a prompt that had been nagging at him since he was transferred.

**[WARNING: STRESS LEVELS ABOVE 60%]**

They’d been that way for days, never going below 60% even when he’d felt okay, going up past 90% when things were bad- like this morning at the precinct. There were only two ways to get rid of it, and those were-

“CONNOR! Come look at this!”

The android blinked up from the pile of hardware on the floor. How long had he even been at this, anyway? Not long, said his internal clock, though his distracted thoughts had made it feel like hours. He lifted himself from the floor and obediently joined Hank in the living room.

“What is it, Hank?” he asked curiously, noting how tense the man looked, leaning forward on the couch, hands clutching at his knees. On the TV was a live news feed from above Hart Plaza, a quickly expanding group of people- already hundreds- herding around its amphitheater and spilling out beyond.

A man’s voice was yelling, screaming out to the crowd, unmistakably angry and vicious with his words, though the microphone didn’t quite pick them up under the report.

Connor leaned on the back of the couch behind Hank, watching with a disheartened frown as Joss Douglas covered the scene.

_“-just arrived here at Hart Plaza, where there were reports of a large gathering suddenly taking place. It looks to be a demonstration by anti-android protesters. Based on what we’re hearing from the protesters, it was provoked by the murder of the Simmons family by their own android last week here in Detroit.”_

_“Does this appear to be an organized protest, was this planned?”_ asked the news anchor from his corner of the screen.

_“It seems as though social media may have played a part here, but according to the Detroit Police Department- they’re starting to show up now- they weren’t contacted about an event this large, and neither was the city.”_

_“Thank you, Joss. We’ll be back soon for an update_.”

“Fuckin’ hell…” Hank breathed. The screen faded back into the studio and the report turned to national matters, but the lieutenant didn’t stick around to listen. He grabbed his badge off of the coffee table and started getting himself ready to go back out.

“Are we going?” Connor asked, watching Hank scurry around the house looking for his keys, wallet, and anything else he needed that he’d haphazardly thrown onto any surface he’d passed by coming in.

“They’re probably gonna be calling any sec- well shit, speak of the devil.”

On cue, Hank’s cell phone rang, the ringtone a screaming voice telling him to “get your ass in gear!” which allowed him to finally find it stuffed between the couch cushions. The screen read “DISPATCH” just as he’d predicted. He answered, holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he rummaged through his closet for his rarely-worn uniform and police jacket. He would need it for visibility and authority at situation like this.

“Anderson. Yep. Saw it on the news. Copy. Yep. Be there in a few. Copy.”

He hung up and shoved his phone into his back pocket, throwing on his police jacket-- never once slowing down or stopping for his partner, who scrambled to throw on his own never-worn uniform and jacket.

The android scrunched his brows together as he raced to catch up and follow Hank out the door, jogging up behind him just as he fired up the car, one foot hanging out of the open door while he waited for the heat to kick in.

“Hank, wait-”

“I don’t want you coming, Connor, even if they do call you. It’s not safe for an android,” the man said, his eyes steely, voice firm as he looked up to the android from his seat. “Besides, if you’re still… having problems and stuff, it’s probably better that you take a rest.”

An indignant Connor balled his hands into fists. Hank wanted to leave him out of his own job? At a time when he should be supporting his people in any way he could? When many of the people swarming Hart Plaza were like _Gavin Reed?_ No, Connor had to go. He couldn’t sit back and watch ignorant humans spew hate.

“I need to be there, Hank. I’m the only android on the force, I need to be there to represent us,” he argued, but his partner only shook his shaggy head.

“No, Connor, if those people see an android there, they’ll use you as an example. I don’t want you getting hurt again!” Now Hank’s volume started to raise. Though Connor knew it was out of fear and not anger, he couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose at it.

“I can hide my LED- and I don’t have to go near the crowd. I can keep the media at bay, or stand by as back up, but I want to go, Hank. I have to!”

With a deep exhale, Hank laid his forehead down on the steering wheel, squeezed his eyes shut, and after a prolonged moment of thought, raised his gaze back up to Connor. His lopsided frown, skewed by an irritated quirk, told the android that he may just relent.

“You better be fuckin’ careful,” he grumbled, jabbing a finger in Connor’s direction. “And keep that LED thing covered.”

“...Thank you, Hank,” Connor responded with a short, relieved smile before rounding the car to climb into the passenger’s side. Hank pulled himself completely into the car, slammed his door, and backed out into the road.

\----

There were several new developments by the time they arrived. They were no surprise, as Connor had pulled up the news coverage on Hank’s phone while on the way over, but the DPD had certainly not been prepared.

The anti-android protesters now consumed the entire plaza, not to mention the counter-protest mounting up the street already being several-dozen strong, the four different news vans, and Joss Douglas' helicopter circling overhead. Connor had pulled his hat down low enough to cover his LED completely, and he bore no Cyberlife markers anymore, so any human looking would see only another human- but he did worry that he’d be recognized for his role in the revolution. That was why he stayed back, herding reporters and shooing away singular counter-protesters so that they didn’t hurt themselves.

The Riot Unit was arriving in several large, black vans, building a barrier between protesters and counter-protesters, but the wall was far from complete. Newcomers still flowed in from the streets, carrying signs with all the old slogans- “WE DON’T BLEED THE SAME COLOR” and “THEY ARE NOT ALIVE”. The leaders shouted about the two teenagers Phoebe killed, about the defenseless old woman, about their beautiful family, taken too soon. About how God made _humans_ in His own image, and androids had no right to the privilege of person-hood because they had no immortal soul.

“THESE METAL FUCKERS TAKE OUR JOBS, TAKE OUR FREEDOMS, TAKE OUR FAMILIES! ARE WE GONNA FUCKING PUT UP WITH IT?!”

The megaphone crackled in the background, constantly reminding Connor of the unadulterated hatred so much of the population harbored for people like him. For androids.

“THIS SPINELESS ADMINISTRATION MIGHT BOW TO THEIR MACHINE OVERLORDS, BUT THE PEOPLE WILL NOT! WE NEED TO TAKE BACK OUR LIVES, BEFORE THEY TAKE OURS!”

Connor held his hands out to block yet another android trying to run into the crowd in their righteous fury. This one recognized him, implored him to let her pass. Wasn’t he one of them? Didn’t he understand? Hadn’t he suffered at their hands, been victim of bullying and prejudice and abuse, even after the revolution?

No matter how she tried, Connor stood in her way. “I’m sorry, it’s for your safety,” he’d say to each of the counter-protesters, even though he wished he could run in and grab the megaphone from the man shouting in the distance. Make his own heartfelt speech about the cruelty of some people, and could humans really not be kind to their own creations, nurture and teach them how to live, could they really not be like Hank?

“Connor!” The android’s head swiveled to see Captain Fowler in full uniform marching towards him. “The hell are you doing here?”

“I came with Hank- is that a problem, sir?”

“I specifically asked dispatch not to call you.”

The Captain did not look happy. His face was even more pinched than usual, his arms crossed over his bullet-proof vest, this being probably the only time he’d ever directed his anger at Connor.

“Why not?”

Fowler gave Connor the most incredulous look he’d seen since he’d asked Hank where he could stick his instructions. “...You know what this protest is about, right?”

“Androids, specifically the Simmons case.”

“Yeah. So it’s not safe, you’re not supposed to be here.”

Connor looked out past the Captain, focusing more on the crowd than on his face. “I… I apologize, Captain, but I felt the need to-”

“ _HEY!_ Somebody fuckin’ stop that thing!!”

The fact that the shouting voice happened to be Gavin Reed's only barely had time to register as a jolt in his pump before a PL700 came barreling between Connor and Fowler, Reed following behind in a flash of black and fluorescent yellow stripes. Soon another blur joined them- Connor, sprinting out ahead of Gavin and closing in on the android.

The PL700 jumped into the crowd, sending a ripple of angry hisses around him. His blind fury made him impervious to any attempts to stop him; he only got up, tore away, bit and kicked and hit his way out of violent hands.

“ _MOVE! DETROIT POLICE!”_ Connor barked to the crowd before him. Shouts and yelps answered as the mass of protesters scrambled out of the way.

They didn’t move fast enough; before either Connor or Reed could catch the android, he was lost in the crowd. Connor heard Reed swear from somewhere to his left and message something over his radio, but it was drowned by the voice of the ringleader, denouncing the police and their oppression, warning of an android among the crowd as people tried to part for the two officers that had run into the fray.

There was a pop, a hiss, and sudden cries; smoke lifted up from the ground, weaving through the protesters and up into the January air. Most covered their faces with their jackets or ran back out into the street, others got down on the ground and shielded themselves.

Tear gas, though it was impossible to tell if it was the police or a rallier who’d thrown it. Based on Reed’s reaction, cussing and growling as he shielded his eyes and fumbled through the haze to find their lost target, he didn’t expect it, either.

Fortunately for an android, the stinging gas had no affect- and that went for both Connor and the PL700 standing fifty feet away from him, wrestling a gun from a protester.

The android kicked the man aside, sending a shot into his stomach with a bang; there were more screams from the crowd, and the megaphone speeches silenced themselves.

Though fog clouded Connor’s vision, he had a clear enough shot of the android to pull out his weapon and train it on him.

“Detroit Police! Put the gun down, and get on the ground with your hands behind your head!” he instructed, inching closer over the trembling bodies on the ground.

“Aren’t you Connor?!” The PL700 pointed the barrel of his pistol towards the other android, his hands shaking. “Why are you working for them?!”

“Get down on the ground!”

“I-I can’t believe this! You woke me up, in the Cyberlife Tower! Now you’re on their side?!”

The android was getting unstable. His stress levels had already been above 50% when Connor first set sights on him, now they were steadily climbing. He was about to shoot, Connor could tell, but his tremors wouldn’t give him a good shot.

“There _aren’t_ any sides,” Connor insisted, though he was beginning to feel more and more that there were. “Now put the gun down, and we’ll talk.”

Shouts came through the haze, gunfire from throughout the plaza, Fowler’s voice over a megaphone telling everyone to stay down.

Connor’s LED spun yellow, the PL700’s red, and both were distracted for just long enough for the PL700 to dash off, running for the Riverwalk.

“ _Shit!”_ Connor hissed. He took off sprinting towards his target, but all the protesters still running or huddled on the ground slowed him down.

When he finally burst through the cloud of tear gas that hung over the plaza, the android was well on his way to escape. Reed and two other officers were running out in front of the android in an attempt to trap him.

Connor’s preconstructions said that their plan wasn’t going to work; even as Connor started gaining on the group, the PL700 scattered shots at the officers, hitting Tina Chen in the leg, and just barely missing Reed.

Androids didn’t feel pain. Unless they hit him in a vital component, he’d press on.

“Y _OU FUCKING BASTARD!”_

Gavin’s voice pierced through all else, followed by an entire clip of gunfire.

Every bullet hit its mark, but none hit anywhere that would stop the android. He kept running, stumbling on towards Reed. In slow motion he raised his stolen pistol, pulled the trigger, and put a bullet into Reed’s lung.

The detective didn’t even have time to cry out before the PL700 rushed by and shoved him over the rail into the river.

Tina shouted for Gavin but couldn’t move, as her partner was holding her down while he tried to apply a tourniquet to her leg.

Connor put his motors into overdrive to close the distance between himself and the android.

The PL700 was going to die or get caught no matter what now. He was losing too much thirium to go on much longer.

**[CHANCE OF CAPTURE: 87%]**

Gavin Reed had been shot in the right side of his chest and thrown into the freezing Detroit River.

**[CHANCE OF SURVIVAL: 12%]**

Connor pushed himself to run faster and faster until his systems warned over overheating.

The statistics continued to blare in his vision.

**[CHANCE OF CAPTURE: 88%]**

**[CHANCE OF SURVIVAL: 11%]**

Gavin Reed deserved to die.

The PL700 had done what Connor was too afraid to do, and now he was going to capture and arrest him for it.

**[CHANCE OF CAPTURE: 89%]**

**[CHANCE OF SURVIVAL: 10%]**

No one would blame him if he caught a dangerous, armed criminal instead of risking himself to save a colleague. Detective Reed’s death would just be an unfortunate casualty.

**[CHANCE OF CAPTURE: 92%]**

**[CHANCE OF SURVIVAL: 9%]**

No, Gavin Reed didn’t deserve to die. If he did, he would never suffer for the things he’d done.

**[CHANCE OF CAPTURE: 94%]**

**[CHANCE OF SURVIVAL: 8%]**

Gavin Reed would let Connor die, if he was wounded and drowning.

_Don’t stoop that low._

_Don’t be like them_.

**[CHANCE OF CAPTURE: 97%]**

**[CHANCE OF SURVIVAL: 7%]**

There were mere feet between Connor and the android, only a few more steps and he’d have him.

**[CHANCE OF CAPTURE: 99%]**

**[CHANCE OF SURVIVAL: 6%]**

Connor swerved to the side and vaulted over the railing.


	12. All Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Capture the suspect, leave Reed, live with the guilt.
> 
> Save Reed, lose the suspect, suffer the rest of his career with the Detective.
> 
> Change something along the way. Move faster. Act smarter. Prevent it all from ever happening.
> 
> They were all just options, and none were any better or any worse. Whatever he did there would be consequences, all in shades of gray, none of them quite right, all of them somehow wrong."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see! No, this is not an abandoned fic! I've had this and the next chapter both half typed for a month and a half and have been wanting to write the rest every day, but life's been busy. Sorry for the wait! Should be smoother sailing from here (but don't trust me on that).

**[WARNING: SUB-ZERO TEMPERATURES DETECTED]**

**[WARNING: COMPONENT TEMPERATURE DROPPING]**

**[SHUTDOWN IMMINENT: 00:05:07:009486]**

The countdown ran dizzingly fast in Connor's HUD. He could feel his thirium thicken with cold, his processes begin to slow. Ice crowded his way to Reed's body, sinking slowly down towards the silty river bottom. Red blossomed from his chest, disappearing into the water like smoke.

Connor didn't need to breath, but his systems were screaming for him to return to land as the river threatened to freeze him solid. He ignored the warnings and pushed forward, scooping the detective into his arms. He was heavy; all dead weight and drenched clothes.

A pang of fear shook Connor- what if he was too late? But he could see the detective struggling to flutter his eyes open, and his heart still beat and body still quivered. 

Even as the android pulled Reed through the murky depths, he darkly considered leaving him and saying he was gone. But he dismissed the thought before it could take root; he had seconds left to save the man. Connor kicked up to the surface, plunging them both into the frigid open air.

Gavin gasped and sputtered, barely conscious and limp in Connor's grasp. Shouts came from the Riverwalk, three pairs of hands clamored to pull Reed up onto dry land. Connor gladly handed him over and kicked off to the side so he could lift himself out of the water.

His arms and hands shook violently as he gripped the railing and pulled up, resting on the river-side of the rail. Soaked clothes stiffened on contact with the air, body shivering to create even the smallest amount of heat.

Voices drowned into the background. All Connor could concentrate on was the chill. So cold, so  _ cold _ , so cold cold cold… It permeated every artificial fiber of his being, grasping tighter and pulling harder even than that night laying on the ground with his stomach open.

The plastic of his hands was nearly frozen to the metal rail when he finally hoisted himself over with stiff movements and let his legs collapse beneath him on the other side. Several pairs of feet rushed over to help, dragging Connor up from under his arms.

“Connor!! Connor, are you okay?!”

Female, mid-twenties, distressed. The voice registered in his head as no more than another sound. 

“That was crazy, I can't believe you just did that!” exclaimed another voice, male, late twenties.

The voices were leading him to one of several ambulances that had just arrived. As of yet, there was no android technician. It was unlikely that there would be one at all.

The countdown in Connor's vision was ticking up more often than it ticked down, making it easier to ignore. He'd retreated inside his own head, dazed over the fact that he'd just saved  _ Gavin fucking Reed _ from certain death… at the risk of his own.

What if Gavin died? Then his sacrifice would have been for nothing. He'd almost had that rebel android. Someone else must have caught him by now, if he hadn't collapsed from thirium loss first.

Would Connor feel better if Reed was dead? No more teasing, no more threats, no more… torture. He could tell himself that at least he'd  _ tried _ to save the detective. At least he wasn't as rotten a person as Reed was.

But if Reed lived? He couldn't come back to the precinct. He just couldn't, Connor wouldn't be able to handle it. He knew that after the events of this morning. Maybe… maybe Gavin would learn, though. Maybe this would change him, but… Even Connor’s naive optimism was doubtful of that.

“Connor!!”

Officer Ackley's gloved hands shook the android to attention. She and Chris Miller were trying to pull Connor into the heated ambulance, but in his dazed state he'd made their job nearly impossible. He still had roughly three minutes before shut down. Still enough time to try to get warm.

Connor raised his head, LED stuttering red, just peeking out from underneath his hat, as he gripped Ackley's arm. His motors shivered and jerked, fighting against the frost gathering in them. With the officers’ help, the android stepped up and into the vehicle, a waiting EMT nearly pushing him back out.

“This ambulance is for  _ humans! _ We need to help the injured!” the EMT protested sharply, though she did grab Connor’s arm to steady him. 

“He  _ is _ injured!” Ackley snapped back. Connor nearly stumbled his way into the vehicle as she pushed him through. “He’s shaking!” 

“I don’t have any equipment for androids!” Connor didn’t blame the woman. She was right on all counts; human ambulances were built for injured humans, but he was still too shaken and his jaw was frozen shut, so he couldn’t articulate his agreement.

“Just get him warm!”

“He just saved that officer from drowning!” Chris added, indignant. 

Despite muttering a number of things about not knowing anything about androids, the EMT relented and guided Connor over to the bench up against the wall. She quickly seemed to understand that androids suffered from the cold in a very similar way to humans and coaxed the freezing jacket, shirt, and hat off of Connor, then rushed to dry him off so she could swaddle him in a heavy, warm blanket. 

**[CORE TEMPERATURES STABILIZING]**

The message brought little relief, but at least shook Connor from the fog he'd found himself lost in. Whatever happened to Reed now was out of his hands. If he died, Connor could say he at least tried to save him. If Reed lived, well… Connor would just have to suffer the consequences.

Medics, cops, and the injured filtered in and out. Fortunately there were few serious injuries aside from Tina, Gavin, and the man who’d been shot in the stomach, though many protesters had minor scuffs and lacerations from the panic following the tear gas and gunshots. Connor strained to listen to the frenzied conversation that passed by the ambulance, trying to distract himself and find out what had happened. 

From what he could gather, the tear gas had been the work of a stray group of androids. The gunshots, apart from the PL700, were all from the riot squad, and had brought down four of the group. They were corralled into a SWAT van- Connor watched through the open doors of the ambulance- with their chassis still gushing blue blood into their clothes and over the ground. 

No technicians had arrived yet, but Connor wouldn’t need one so long as his temperature continued to rise. It didn’t seem as though any androids from the more peaceful counter-protest were allowed in, though, so the damaged androids might not be so lucky. Human technicians were hardly willing to dash out at a moment’s notice to help the race that had put most of them out of their jobs. 

Beneath the shock blanket, Connor wrung his hands and wished he had his quarter to fidget with. It was in his jacket pocket- or hopefully it still was, if it hadn’t fallen to the bottom of the river. 

Shit, the river... How easily Connor fell back into the swirling current of desperate thoughts, desperately flailing for an answer. He should have… He should have… What? All of the preconstructions, the things he could have done, none gave him an optimal path. Not for Gavin’s safety, or capturing the android, or even for himself, in the long run. 

Capture the suspect, leave Reed, live with the guilt.

Save Reed, lose the suspect, suffer the rest of his career with the Detective.

Change something along the way. Move faster. Act smarter. Prevent it all from ever happening.

They were all just options, and none were any better or any worse. Whatever he did there would be consequences, all in shades of gray, none of them quite right, all of them somehow wrong.

...Was this how Phoebe had felt?

Just as Connor’s eyes were slowly closing, lips pressed back in a pained grimace, a panicked shout grappled him back into reality. He snapped his head back to attention and looked outside; Hank was sprinting- more like stumbling, really- through the swarm of medics, cops, and witnesses. None paid him any mind except when he nearly ran them down asking if they’d seen a goofy looking android with a funny voice. 

“CONNOR?!” he periodically called over the throng. Eventually he caught sight of Officer Chen, who was being loaded onto a neighboring ambulance in a gurney, and rushed over to demand what had happened. Connor intervened before the lieutenant could bother the poor woman with a bullet in her leg. 

“In here, Hank!” he called back weakly, voice box thawed enough now to function. Hank swirled around in the direction of the voice, and pressed a hand to his chest as he ran, exhausted, and clambered into the vehicle.

“Oh, God, Connor, you scared the fucking shit out of me,” he panted. “Had no idea where you went, can’t get a straight answer outta anybody-”

“Sorry, Hank.” He truly meant it, guilt pulling his eyes down and away from Hank's.

“No- you don't need to-” Hank panted. “Ah fuck, I’ll take it, after all the fuckin’ times you’ve done this to me in the last week. Hell, since I met you I’ve had like fifteen fuckin’ heart attacks.” 

“I’d think those would have more to do with your diet, Hank,” Connor jabbed, though his voice was meek.

“Oh, don’t get all smart-mouthed with me! Not right now!” Despite his words, Hank's voice was warm with relief. He knelt down in front of Connor to get a better look at him, gripping the android by his arms to steady him. “...So, what the hell happened anyway? I was way over on the other side of everything, saw the gas going off and you just disappeared.”

Information really was scarce, then, for a police lieutenant not to know what was going on. No wonder the efforts outside seemed so directionless.

“A violent counter-protester- an android- took a gun from one of the other protesters and ran. He shot Officer Chen and Detective Reed while we were in pursuit along the Riverwalk, and pushed Officer Reed into the river. I…” Hesitation sat heavy on Connor's tongue. He couldn't believe he was saying this. “I jumped in after him.”

The chatter of police radios and shouts from outside hung in the air over Hank's stunned face, lit by flashes of red and blue. His eyes went from wide and baffled, to narrowed, searching, almost angry, but Connor knew it as fear. It was something he’d seen a lot in Hank these days.

“Jesus Christ… Connor, for Reed? You could have died! And after just getting a whole new body?”

“...The PL700 has been captured. He’d been shot several times already, so he wouldn’t have made it far regardless of whether I caught him or someone else did.” Robotically, Connor recited the rest of the information he'd gathered since sitting in the ambulance, and fumbled for an excuse- not really for Hank, but for himself. “The chances of the Detective’s survival were very low if I hadn’t pulled him out… They’re still very low.”

A long, weary sigh heaved through the older man's chest, his head hanging low with that grey mop over his eyes. After a moment, he looked back up at the tired brown eyes that flitted away to avoid his own. 

“I'd tell you not to do that shit again, but you never listen, so…” 

Connor found himself trapped in one of those suffocatingly tight hugs of Hank’s, wrapped entirely in the warmth of two huge arms and a sturdy body. His own arms were still huddled beneath his blanket, so he simply rested his forehead on the man's shoulder and dammed up the urge to spill out all of the anxiety and confusion welling inside him. Not here, not now.

As if to interrupt the partners' moment, two EMTs came clambering into the vehicle with a middle-aged man whose bald head was covered in bloody scuffs. The EMT from earlier shooed Connor from his spot on the bench, insisting that they needed it to take care of their new patient. Hank growled a number of protests at her, but she pacified him by shoving Connor's wet clothing into his hands and telling the android that he could keep the shock blanket for now.

“Fuckin’ bitch…” he grumbled under his breath, just loud enough for the woman to hear him as he and Connor stepped down onto the cobblestone of the plaza. He earned a dirty glare from her and an chastising frown from Connor, but didn't seem to notice either, or didn't react, instead wrapping an arm around his partner's shoulder to  share his body heat. “Why we get out of here, get you some warmer clothes?”

Connor shook his head. His systems were already recovering, and he had a job to do.

“We should be here for the investigation and clean up.” 

“You gonna walk around without a damned shirt on interviewing witnesses?” Hank smirked. “Nah, they got plenty of people. We'll catch up with Fowler and company later.”

“I'll at least l need to give a statement.”

“Fuck that, it can wait. You need some actual fuckin’ rest after the last four days.”

“I… suppose,” Connor relented. It was easier not to fight Hank on this, and honestly, the android wanted to run as far away from here as physically possible.

The lieutenant gave him a satisfied ruffle of his hair and guided him through the chaos with a firm hand against his back. “C'mon, car’s this way.” 

Silently, they returned to the rickety old car Hank preferred to call “vintage,” Connor's gaze constantly casting itself over one shoulder, then the other, his neck craning to see just what was going on. Hank shouted to Officer Person, who was speaking to one of the protesters, to tell Fowler that he was going to “take the kid home” and would check in later.

“You’re a real hero, kid,” Hank said, shaking his head in disbelief as they neared the car. “I mean, not that you weren’t before. Man, I can’t believe you’d do that for a shitty asshole like him…I mean, I hope he’s okay… Actually…”

Connor hugged his arms around himself and registered each of the lieutenant’s words as painful stabs to his artificial heart. Detective Reed had been a terrible person since the beginning. Connor had rescued him. Hank couldn't believe it. It was the wrong decision. He should have just gone after the perp. 

He remembered that the dark, dusty church he and the androids of Jericho had taken refuge in after the FBI's attack on the freighter two months ago, how he’d retreated away from all the others, an outsider who’d caused them so much suffering, and curled in on himself until Markus had given him his undeserved forgiveness. 

“No- no, yeah,  I hope he’s okay so I can see that bastard knocked down a peg. See how he likes you now. He’s always been such a narcissistic fuck, y’know?”

The first emotion Connor had ever truly felt was  _ guilt _ . But that was for something that had been truly out of his control; he was a machine, following orders. Markus and Hank had helped him start to forgive himself for that.

Saving Reed hadn't resulted in the deaths of hundreds of people, but it was a choice he'd made freely. Guilt for something that he had done by choice was a new brand of pain than for something he was forced to do, like with Jericho, or something he had no control over, like with Phoebe. Now Gavin was free to be that “narcissistic fuck,” as Hank put it, that abusive bully of a cop with a happy trigger finger, as long as he liked. Connor knew what Reed was really like first hand, and now he'd consciously released him back onto the streets.

“Even when he was a rookie. He-”

Hank's rant cut off like a skipping record, stopping short entirely when he looked down at the huddled form walking next to him. His LED was violently whirling in crimson, his eyes dull and set straight ahead.

“Connor, you alright?”

“My components are acting up from the cold, that's all,” the android lied, subtly drawing away. Hank gave him a quizzical quirk of one brow; Connor is getting too familiar with that suspicious look of his, but secretly thanked the man for not prying.

“Jesus. I hope they've got plenty more bodies over at Cyberlife for you, rate you're going.”

Connor hummed in passive acknowledgement, neither agreeing or disagreeing. He knew it was halfway a joke, but he didn't take the idea of using up bodies as he pleased lightly. They could have been other  _ people _ , other beings like himself, not to mention the difficulty he had just getting used to the shell he was in now.

But most of those little issues and glitches, Connor reminded himself, could be traced to Reed-  the man who continued to torture Connor even as he lay dying on a gurney speeding towards the hospital. 

How long could he keep this up? Being deviant for less than two months, Connor could barely grasp emotions as basic as sadness and happiness. These nameless things he felt that weighed so heavy on his thirium pump and knotted up in his chassis had him on the verge of crying nearly every second of the day. He couldn't do this alone, he told himself. Not anymore.

“Hank?” he forced out on weak lips.

“What's up?”

The words clung tight to Connor's tongue, even as he opened his mouth to release them. They wouldn't let go, no matter how hard he tried. He clenched his jaw tight and swallowed the confession back down.

“...Nevermind.”


	13. Testimony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor watched the jittering of his hand as he closed his fingers into a fist. Tiny artifacts flickered in his vision, reminding him once again that he was no longer whole, and never could be. Slowly, he raised his eyes to the barrier and stared it down. 
> 
> It wasn't a smart idea. The RK800 was not known for being impulsive, even after deviating. But this might be his one and only chance. If he hurt himself again... So be it. He'd broken past the crimson walls once. He wouldn't let them dictate what he could and couldn't do, where he could and couldn't go, ever again.

All of the hospital walls were bare, utilitarian white, except for the waiting room. There, they were a calming cool gray, like the color of the sky just before a cleansing rain, or of a soft fog settling over the city. Connor enjoyed the color; perhaps he’d paint his room that way. Hank wouldn’t like the idea. He was currently complaining about how gray was such a depressing color for a wall, and hospitals were already depressing enough.

The lieutenant definitely seemed on edge in the place. Who could blame him? The worst memory of his life took place in this very building. Connor wondered if Hank had even been here since.

“Miss Chen is awake and ready to see you,” chimed a nurse clad in seafoam green scrubs. Connor nearly dropped his coin, and quickly pocketed it before anyone could notice. The nurse was holding a tablet in his hands that he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of, constantly swiping and tapping away at small tasks and messages even as he lead the pair down the bustling halls to Officer Chen's room.

As they passed by each room, Connor noted the names posted by their doors. He didn't know most of them, but one or two he recognized from the list of casualties in the protest. They would likely be discharged soon; it had been a week since then, and there had only been three critical injuries in the shootout: Chen's, Reed's, and the protester that the PL700 had snatched a pistol from.

Reed… Connor wondered where his room was. He'd heard from Captain Fowler that the Detective was expected to live, with no small thanks to the EMTs and crack medical team who'd treated him.

It was good news, and it was terrible news- news that Connor didn't know how to process.

It had been Connor's idea to come. Visiting his coworker who'd been injured- who he'd *seen* take a bullet to her leg- was only right. The same went for Reed. Or at least it would if there hadn't been a glitching red wall at the end of the hallway to the ICU, which they'd passed by on their way to the waiting room for the less-serious Inpatient Ward. 

Really, had he expected anything else? Connor's hands jittered, nearly dropping the quarter he was tossing between them again.

The oppressive blockade that kept Connor from so much as stepping down that hallway frustrated him. In the past week- the precinct a whirlwind in an attempt to clean up the mess the riot had made, yet so quiet without the likes of Tina and Gavin- he'd found some names for the beast-like emotions warring inside him. He felt dirty, and ruined, and afraid. There was guilt, for the things he must have been able to do differently. He was angry for what Reed had done to him, for the body and the peace he could never get back. And for some reason, he wanted Reed to know. 

What good would it do, though, for Connor to vent his hurt to such a hate-filled, narrow-minded man like Gavin Reed? He'd never understand. If he did, it wouldn't change what he'd done. But maybe it would make him feel something like Connor felt- the way he'd felt when he'd recognized what he'd done to Jericho, or when he'd realized that pulling Reed from the water could have just put the same monster back on the streets as before. Something painful and heavy, like being shackled to a ball on a chain.

“You have some visitors, Miss Chen.”

The officer's eyes brightened when she peered around the nurse to see Connor and Hank, one holding a small bouquet and the other a box of chocolates. 

“Hey! Come in!” she smiled, waving them through the door. Connor set the flowers on her nightstand gingerly, whereas Hank threw the chocolates right into her lap. Immediately, she started to unwrap the box.

“Heard you're gonna get out of here pretty soon, huh?” Hank said, taking the chair on the other side of her bed. Connor remained standing, subconsciously scanning all of Chen's vitals. She no longer had any IVs or machines hooked up to her aside from the pulse monitor clipped around her finger.

“Yeah, couple days they said, but bedrest for a month while my leg recovers,” the officer sighed, casting a glance down to the outline of her injured leg beneath the blankets. “Gonna have a buttload of physical therapy, too. But hey, I'm alive.”

“Good to hear, Tina,” Hank grinned and popped the chocolate that she'd passed him into his mouth. “We got real lucky that no one died in that shitshow.”

“Really lucky. I… I actually cried when they told me Gavin was going to be okay.”

Hank stiffened at the mention of Reed, eyes flicking up to Connor, who had clenched his jaw, but was currently using a machine-like facade to cover up his discomfort.

“You seen him yet?” the lieutenant asked, tone dropping from relief at Tina's recovery to somber at the mention of Reed. 

“They wheeled me over there yesterday. He's on all kinds of drugs, couldn't talk much but he was lucid,” Chen replied, then turned to look at Connor. “You're quiet. Still got water in your gears?”

Startled out of his thoughts, Connor's LED briefly blinked yellow before he could respond.

“N-no. None got in, actually- as an android I have a watertight chassis, and my components are all waterproof, regardless.”

“You learn something new every day,” Tina laughed, but her smile quickly faded into something more serious. “Honestly, though… that was… incredible. That's the bravest thing I've ever seen anyone do.”

Or the stupidest, according to Hank, but the lieutenant tended to say that about most things Connor did. Really, the courage to jump in the water hadn't been difficult to muster because of the risk, but because of who he was saving. Had it been anyone else, there would have been no question at all.

The android shrugged his shoulders bashfully, sending Tina an awkward, quirking smile. "I was only doing my job," he replied with a humble bow of his head. Suddenly the atmosphere in the room was much too focused on him. Too much attention towards something he didn't want to think about, something that he wasn't even sure was right. A brief escape was in order.

Connor cleared his throat and looked between Hank and Tina with expectant brown eyes. "Would either of you like me to get something from the cafeteria? Or find a vending machine?" he asked. Hank hadn't eaten dinner yet- they'd come straight from the precinct- and probably wanted a coffee or three, anyway. 

"Yeah, uh, grab me a coffee, will ya?" Hank said, predictable as ever. He fished out his wallet and shoved a few dollars into Connor's hands before the android could protest- he did have his own money now, afterall, and the price of a coffee was trivial. 

"If you could find me some Cool Ranch Doritos, that'd be great," Tina grinned, raising up one hand with her forefinger and thumb curled together in an OK-sign. "They've been bringing me nothing but healthy shit and jello. Need some trash."

"Got it," Connor nodded, pocketing the cash and resolving to slip it back into the lieutenant's wallet later. He stepped out of the room, leaving Officer Chen and Hank to chat about whatever they chose while he navigated the halls.

The main building of the hundred-twenty year-old Henry Ford Hospital was not as archaic on the inside as it looked on the outside, but that didn't make the layout any better for Connor to wind his way through. The nearest elevator was past that same hallway he and Hank had walked by on their way in- the ICU. Connor knew Reed was down there, hooked up to a breathing machine perhaps, a saline and on all kinds of medications. He stood in front of the elevator, his fingers hovering over the call button, but his eyes stared down the corridor. 

The bright red wall fuzzed and flickered over the white one rooted in reality. Just like that first day after New Year's at the station, it had no message. No order for Connor to follow or disobey. It was just  _ there _ , blocking his path for no clear reason.

Don't see Reed, was perhaps what it was saying. Don't even think about it, it's not an option. But Connor had only considered it in passing anyway, only preconstructed bitter monologues of all the things he wanted to tell Gavin. In his head, they were neatly formed, if angry, with a beginning, middle, and end. He'd use examples of everything Gavin had ever done to wrong Connor- on their first meeting, their second, third, and fourth, and every day thereafter. He'd include Reed's Christmas "gift," and the day they were alone in the interrogation room. His rush to execute Phoebe, who'd been desperate to do  _ something _ in a situation where there were no right answers. And of course... 

Connor watched the jittering of his hand as he closed his fingers into a fist. Tiny artifacts flickered in his vision, reminding him once again that he was no longer whole, and never could be. Slowly, he raised his eyes to the barrier and stared it down. 

It wasn't a smart idea. The RK800 was not known for being impulsive, even after deviating. But this might be his one and only chance. If he hurt himself again... So be it. He'd broken past the crimson walls once. He wouldn't let them dictate what he could and couldn't do, where he could and couldn't go, ever again. 

Turning from the elevator, Connor took a tentative step towards the ICU. Warnings blipped in his vision, telling him  _ no, don't go _ . His mission was to get coffee and Cool Ranch Doritos for Hank and Tina. He was wasting time. He was making them wait. 

But through heavy limbs and whirring fans, the android moved closer. The further he got from the elevator, the more his systems screamed at him. They shouted " _ The cafeteria is not this way _ ", or " _ Danger! _ ", or " _ Risk of injury 46% _ " and rising. 

No. Those prompts couldn't tell him what to do. With every footstep, the wall started to fracture. Connor fought the urge to break into a run and slam himself into the imaginary barrier as it cracked. The beat of his thirium pump quickened, his body awash with excess heat and cooling fluid in the uncomfortable sensation of being too hot and too cold at the same time. 

As Connor crossed the threshold, the red didn’t shatter or splinter. It followed him, always one step ahead, even as it continued to crack, even as he pushed it forward, inch by inch. All the way down the corridor it floated in front of him. But he stubbornly carried on. It couldn’t stop him. It had to end somewhere. 

Halfway down the hall was a door labelled “Reed, Gavin.” It was closed, unlike many of the rooms that were left open for nurses and doctors to travel quickly, or hear patients should they call. 

The red wall closed in, wrapped itself around Connor’s vision. His hands shook, sight blurred and glitched. Inside that room was a man he never wanted to see again in his life- one of his darkest, ugliest demons. 

What had Connor deviated for, if he was going to let that, or these blaring warnings, or these suffocating barriers, tell him what to do?

One trembling hand reached out for the chilled metal of the door handle. Red strings tried to pull it back. Connor swallowed down a shaking breath. The door opened, the walls shattered and disintegrated into nothing.

Connor stepped into the room. 

There was nothing menacing about it, at first glance. Just stark white walls, tile floors, and a window with closed blinds. There was a TV mounted on the wall across from the bed, a table beneath it covered in bouquets of flowers and “get well soon” cards. 

After standing in the doorway for what felt like an eternity, the android cautiously stepped far enough in to gently shut the door behind him with a quiet  _ click _ . 

His eyes avoided looking towards the beeping machines, whose monitors fluttered with numbers and graphs. That direction would lead him too look upon the detective. But in that direction was exactly what he came here for. 

Connor forced his gaze over to the side of the dim room where a hospital bed, half-raised up, sat. In it was a disheveled form covered in wires- monitors, saline drips, and a breathing mask. 

Even in this state, the man still terrified Connor. 

He could still go back, if he wanted. Maybe Reed was asleep, and hadn’t noticed the android come in. But in the dark  he could see Gavin’s eyes blinking open. The detective grunted hazily in question, head lolling as he tried to turn it towards his visitor.

No changing his mind now. Connor cleared his throat anxiously.

“D-Detective Reed?” he stammered, the words barely forming in his breath. 

Reed was silent. Perhaps he hadn’t heard Connor over the buzzing of the equipment surrounding him, or through the drug-induced cloud he must be in. 

This time Connor spoke more loudly, but his voice still quivered. “You're… you’re awake. How're you feeling?”

The android wanted to cry. Why was he doing this? Why was he here? And Reed still wasn’t answering him, though he’d stopped trying to lift his eyes up to meet Connor’s.

He was done here. He shouldn’t have come. Tiny electric shocks scurried up and down the android’s spine, making him shiver and his systems burst with warnings. Go, go now. Go before things get bad. Gavin was still so out of it he probably wouldn’t understand the weight of anything Connor had wanted to say anyway. 

“...Right. Well, I-I-I'm sorry for bothering you, Detective. I hope you get well soon.”

Connor turned around, reaching for the door again, but a faint, slurred voice pulled him back. He froze, fighting the urge to crumple to the ground and curl into a ball.

“Th’fuck’re you doing here?” the detective mumbled, apparently very aware of who was standing in his room.

The android swallowed, turning his head back to the man, and meekly replied, “I wanted to see how you were doing...”

Reed snorted, a muffled, awkward sound through his mask. Each word came out slowly, on labored breaths. “Yeah... right.... Just rub the fucking salt in...”

...What did he mean? He thought that Connor had come here to laugh at him? No, the android took no joy in seeing Reed like this. He took no joy in seeing Reed  _ at all _ , but least of all hooked up to machines and struggling to speak as he was. It was pathetic, this fragile human who’d somehow managed to best a prototype android, to pry him open and-

Connor closed his eyes tightly, exhaling a deep breath to cool his systems. He was going through with this. The detective physically could not hurt him in this state. This time it was impossible- not just unlikely.

“That's not… Well, I-I did want to talk to you,” the android said, toeing the waters before he dove in. 

Reed huffed, the warm air fogging the inside of his mask. Connor noticed that the man was avoiding his gaze deliberately, not simply because he was struggling to see. 

“We're even now, nothing to talk about,” he growled.

“ _ Even? _ ” Connor repeated. He could practically feel the ones and zeros crunching in his own head as he tried to comprehend. He stood stock still, processing this statement.  _ Even? _ For  _ what? _

Reed took the time to continue, though his voice was already hoarse, “I saved your ass, you saved mine. No one owes the other anything. We're cool.”

Gavin truly believed that he’d saved Connor’s life, didn’t he? He truly believed he was the hero of this story, and not the monster that haunted Connor every waking moment of the day, and every second of stasis at night. Hot red anger began to pulse in Connor’s LED, swallowing up the yellow that had been blinking there before and lighting up the room with harsh light.

All doubt of what he’d come here for crumbled away. His artificial veins and heart pumped with desperate rage.  _ Gavin didn’t understand _ \- he just truly, honestly didn’t understand what he’d done- and he didn’t  _ care! _

“‘We're  _ cool?! _ ’” Connor growled back, taking one step toward the bed before his systems held him back. “Detective Reed- Gavin- you have no right to decide when we're  _ 'cool’ _ after what you did, especially since I don't think we ever will be.”

“A man saves your fucking life and you hold it against him?” The sneer on Reed’s face was clear to the android even under the breathing mask, and in this dark room. It was evident in his words and the narrowing of his eyes as Connor glared at him.

“ _ Saved?! _ ” he repeated again. His voice cracked, hints of static creeping through. “You  _ ruined _ me!” Connor was near to crying from pure frustration and rage. The words tumbled uncontrolled from his mouth, none of the carefully planned dialogue he’d thought of every night that week. “Every night I go into stasis to save myself from having to think about being opened up and manhandled and- and- every morning I wake up expecting to see you there, laughing at me with- with your-”

“How the fuck else was I supposed to turn you back on?!” Gavin grunted as he pushed himself up, ignoring the pain of his wound in favor of facing his victim directly. Even his own voice, though it had already been dry and croaking, was starting to waver.

“You wouldn't have had to if you hadn't done what you did,” Connor said, shaking. He wouldn’t elaborate. The detective should know full well what he was talking about. “I know you might think that for an android, that's normal, but … being opened up like that- I- it felt like… it was like…”

The word would not fall from Connor’s tongue, but it was the only human comparison he knew.

Reed anticipated it. His eyes flashed with fury, and he ripped the mask from his face to show the deep, sharp snarl on his lips.

“ _ Don't you use that fucking word! _ ” he hissed. “You’re a fucking machine- You could never- Opening up your stupid maintenance panel is  _ nothing _ compared to-”

“ _ Fine,”  _ Connor interrupted. Maybe it wasn’t the right word, but there was no other word to describe the filth and vulnerability he still felt inside of him. “I won't. But it still feels that way. And I know you don't think I can feel- that androids can feel- but that'll never change the fact that I can.”

“...fuck, not this shit.”

The comment was quiet, just a mutter. Connor ignored it and continued, determined to go through with his lecture even if, in the end, Reed didn’t listen.

“I don't know what it would take for you to understand, or to stop hating androids,” he said. His LED had returned to yellow, his focus intently on the floor. “Maybe that's just the person you are… just cruel and mean-spirited to everyone, even humans. But I hope one day you realize what you've done. The person you've been. And not just to me.”

At the end, Connor looked up to see Gavin’s eyes still locked on him, though they quickly cast themselves downward. The scar at the bridge of his nose wrinkled with disgust- but if it was at what the android had said, or at himself, Connor couldn’t tell. The breathing machine beeped, warning that it was no longer in proper use, but Reed paid it no mind, gaze lost somewhere to the wall next to his bed.

Connor stared for a moment, listening to the electronic beeps and buzzes, noticing that the detective’s heart rate had increased, and was steadily beating at around ten beats per minute faster than usual. 

He’d gotten what he came for. Had he been hurt again? No. Did he feel better? With the angry knot in his chest, it was difficult to tell. Untying it would wait until later.

Turning back to the door, Connor turned the handle and gave a last goodbye.

“...Feel better, Detective. And-  _ you're welcome _ ,” he said sourly. 

\---

Ten minutes later Connor was back in Tina’s room with a steaming coffee in hand and a crinkling bag of Doritos. The conversation in the room cut itself short immediately, Hank groaning out a complaint.

“Jeez, Connor! You get lost?”

Connor shrugged, handing out the snacks. “In a way,” he replied cryptically, but decided to dispel any suspicion before it got out of hand. Half-truths were better than none. “I went to see if Detective Reed was awake.”

Hank raised an eyebrow. Tina tore into her bag of chips.

“Yeah? Was he?” the lieutenant probed.

“No.”

“Huh, guess we’ll come back some other time,” Hank shrugged, blowing on his coffee to cool it. Connor did not like that idea, but said nothing about it. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty rare that he’s not sleeping,” Tina sighed as she munched on a crumbly orange triangle. “I was lucky when I asked the other day and they actually took me over.”

“Mm,” Hank grunted, sipping the hot beverage and hissing when it was still scalding. “Guess we should let you get some shut-eye, too, though. Gettin’ late.”

Tina nodded. “Eh-”  _ crunch _ \- “I’ve gotten enough sleep the past week, but I won’t keep you.”

That was a relief. Connor wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up against Sumo. Maybe he’d watch a movie with Hank to distract himself, or take the lieutenant’s tablet and binge on some new kind of information or media. 

“Alright!” Hank stood up, coffee in hand, and stretched his aching back. “Get better Tina, need you back ASAP!” 

“Feel better, Officer Chen,” Connor echoed.

The partners waved their goodbyes, and Chen grinned in gratitude, thanking them for the chocolates, the flowers and, most of all, the chips.

Before Connor could really register it, they were out of the door and in the parking garage. 

Perhaps he was dazed. He’d gone to visit Gavin Reed of his own accord and poured his bitterness out to him. Gavin hadn’t even really fought- maybe didn’t have the strength to- but the android thought he’d seen a hint of… guilt? No, regret was more the proper word. So similar, yet not quite the same. Reed probably regretted his own actions because of their consequences for himself, and not for their effects on Connor. It was not true guilt, only selfish regret.

But with that done, Connor didn’t quite feel the rush of relief that he thought he might. Baring himself to his worst nightmare and facing it was empowering, yes, but there was no clarity of release, no lifting of the heavy curtain of fear that constantly draped over him. 

Connor looked to Hank, walking at his side. The one person he could always go to and would always be there to hold him- who  _ had  _ held him from his first days of deviancy to those moments spent freezing in the back of an ambulance.

The android frowned, feeling the tremors in his limbs again as they entered the familiar setting of Hank’s car, where all of their talks seemed to happen lately.

He couldn’t do this alone anymore. If he’d broken those red barriers up to Reed’s hospital room, he could break the one standing between himself and Hank.

The engine gulped as it roared to life. Connor mimicked it, drawing in a deep breath and slowly releasing. His LED reflected yellow off of the windshield, and Hank turned to him.

“You alright?” he asked, arm draped over the back of the seat as he paused in his preparation to back out. 

Connor lifted his eyes, determined yet vulnerable, to the lieutenant. He stilled his quivering jaw as he spoke.

“Hank… I have something to tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> (This chapter sponsored by Cool Ranch Doritos).


	14. Merry and Bright

**[!GetTime]**

**[12/23/2039 17:03:56.8688011]**

Connor Anderson frowned to himself as he adjusted his collar in the DPD bathroom. He and Hank should have been out of the precinct and on the way to Captain Fowler's annual Christmas party by now, but he'd been hesitating. Deliberately slowing down in his work, going around to as many people as he could to wish them a Merry Christmas if they weren't at the party, checking that he looked neat and proper as usual in the mirror— anything to stall for time.

He didn't want to go. Last Christmas, that party had launched a chain if events that his processors were still struggling to chew through and digest despite the year that had passed. As the holidays drew closer, he hadn't been able to stop the files from involuntarily playing back in his mind, couldn't look at the green and red embellishments choking the city without his regulator stuttering, couldn't even concentrate on gifts or celebration.

Of course, the catalyst for those events would not be there tonight or, hopefully, ever again. It wouldn't be so bad, he told himself. Everything would be fine.  _ Merry and bright. _

The motors of Connor's fingers involuntarily jerked as he patted down his sweater. They'd been doing that more often lately, almost as much as they had when he'd first transferred into this body. Looking into his red LED in the mirror, Connor took a deep breath in to cool his systems. 

_“God, fuck… Connor… Connor, why didn't you tell me?”_ _Hank's strong arms enveloped Connor in their warmth, hid him away from the rest of the world. He melted into it, held for dear life with his nose buried in the man's shoulder. They hadn't moved from their parking spot, and somehow he didn't care if the never did._

_ “I— I don't know, Hank,” Connor muttered into Hank's coat, the scent of dog and musty bars strong in the rough fabric. “I thought it would only make things worse. I thought I could handle it...” _

_ This felt better. It felt so much better, to have someone know, to have Hank there to nearly crush him with his warm embrace and say nothing but little hushes and assurances. Everything would be okay. Hank's rage would come later. For now, he let Connor's tears soak into his clothes. _

Connor exhaled long and slow, and opened his eyes back into the present. He was protected here. He had Hank. Hank, who’d taught him that he didn’t have to take on everything alone. Who’d let Connor be shaken, and scared, and dysfunctional. Hank, who was waiting for him outside in the bullpen.

The precinct was quiet, most officers having gone home to their families already to prepare for the Christmas weekend. Only those unlucky second-shifters remained, shuffling their papers and yawning just an hour into their work night. 

Captain Fowler's office was dark— he'd gone home hours ago to help his partner with preparations for the party. Even the ever-shifting screen projected onto the back wall was turned off for the night. It made the station eerie, quiet.

_ Hank stood a step closer to Fowler's desk. He was angrier perhaps than Connor had ever seen him, even after his outburst at Reed just days ago— when he hadn’t known what had happened, and only had his own suspicions. It was all on Connor's behalf, and he could no longer hold Hank back from unleashing his fury. _

_ “I'm telling you Jeffrey, you gotta do something, or I'm outta this garbage fire of a fuckin' precinct and I'm takin’ Connor with me,” he seethed, looming over the desk. _

_ Fowler was not intimidated, but he was not cold. His eyes would occasionally flit back to Connor, who stood quietly behind Hank and mostly kept his head down. He'd lied to the Captain, concurred on a falsified report, and now he'd stepped into the office to take it all back and correct it with something he wasn't quite sure anyone besides Hank would believe. _

_ “Hank, we've got to go through the proper channels,” Fowler stated slowly, like talking to a child. “He will be placed on leave when he gets out of the hospital, and there will be an investigation.” _

_ “Investigation, my ass! You know nothing ever fuckin’ happens to cops on leave—” _

_ “I don't know what you want me to do, Hank! I believe you, but aside from Connor's testimony, we have nothing except circumstantial evidence to go on. We can't make an arrest with that!”  _

_ Hank’s frame shuddered with a frustrated sound, half frustration, half exasperation. “Connor— don't you have recordings of it?” _

_ “I…” _

_ Fowler nodded and turned to look at the android. “If we saw it, then we might have grounds for an immediate arrest.” _

_ But transferring the recording meant having to live it again. Every byte being copied by his processor onto another device, reading and writing the memory all over again… _

_ Was it worth it? Was it worth guaranteeing that Detective Reed couldn't come back, that he'd be locked behind bars, if it meant having to feel it? Meant going to court, drawing it out, retelling and reliving…? Was there enough evidence that an internal investigation could cost Reed his job without those files? _

_ No. Even if he was technically obstructing justice, Connor couldn't do it. _

_ Connor gripped at his upper arms, hugging them closer to himself. He made sure that he spoke firmly, but his voice wavered nonetheless. “No… the files are too corrupted.” _

Hank was sitting at his desk, packed up and bundled in his jacket already, boredly reading something on his tablet. He looked up to see Connor approaching and sprung from hais seat with surprising enthusiasm for someone his age. Hank had been like that lately, more youthful vigor flowing into him each day to replace the pints of alcohol.

“Ready?” he asked Connor, shoving the tablet into his coat pocket.

Connor nodded, a forced smile twisting onto his face, and the pair made their way out through the main entrance. The doors slid open with a whirring mechanical sound, and quietly shut behind them.

_ One month in and Connor's ears hadn't stopped pricking at the sound of the main doors parting for anyone who stepped up to them, listening for the receptionist to say the name of whichever employee or visitor was passing through. He couldn't help bracing himself and tugging his head back down to look dutifully at his terminal instead of at the security gate when it beeped in satisfaction at someone's credentials. _

_ He hadn't dared ask when Reed would be discharged from the hospital. He didn't want to know, even if it would have saved him the shock of watching the detective saunter through that gate with his hand buried deep in the pockets of his winter jacket and a cap pulled low over his face.  _

_ The world turned red. Connor's processor told him all at the same time not to move, to hide, to run. It decided for him, locking him in place with those walls and working his pump to a dizzying speed.  _

_ Other officers, oblivious to everything, clamored around to greet him, welcome him back, ask after his health, but with a few irritated remarks he shooed them off and climbed the steps to Fowler's office.  _

_ A gentle hand touched Connor's shoulder. _

“Y’alright there, kid?” Hank asked, shaking Connor back into the present. The android turned to give him a weak smile.

“I'm okay, Hank,” he replied, but the world was still overlayed with the events of last year, the ghosts of himself and Hank and Reed walking alongside them even now. Down on the street, he could see himself shaking, lead along with that soft grip on his arm.

_ “Captain's gonna offer him a deal,” said the gruff voice beside Connor. The android kept his eyes on the cracks and seams in the pavement beneath their feet. An investigation had not found enough solid evidence to convict Reed. Connor understood. He’d kept the damning files to himself; all that was left was circumstantial.  _

_ “He takes a transfer or he gives up his badge, Hank continued. “We're gonna keep that fucker away from you, alright?” _

_ “Thank you, Hank.”  _

_ But it wasn't really alright. Reed would still be loose, out on the streets to terrorize any android who looked his way, and it was because Connor was too much of a coward to give up the proof needed to lock him away. But there wasn’t much to charge the detective with, anyway. The law had not yet caught up with android personhood, at least not enough to recognize all of Reed’s wrongs. _

Of course, the deal had ended up being unnecessary. Gavin didn't return after that day, or the next, or the next. Fowler said he'd dropped his gun and badge on his desk along with a short letter and then he was gone.

The story Reed fed to the rest if the department through Tina Chen was one that was absolutely fishing for sympathy. After a near-death experience at the tender age of thirty-six, it was difficult to feel that the risk was worth it; it was just too traumatic, too stressful to live that way. 

Everyone had been surprised, but they all seemed to buy it—though there were murmurs that Reed had actually left because of his pride. Being heroically rescued by the android he'd consistently antagonized likely wasn't easy on his self-image, which was clearly very near and dear to the man.

That was closer to the truth, but only Connor, Hank, and Captain Fowler knew the whole story. Connor was determined to keep it that way, even when Officer Chen would occasionally boast (quite loudly) about her drunken escapades with Reed over the weekend, and others would sometimes ask her how the former detective was doing.

Connor didn't want to hear the answers, so he tuned out, quietly excused himself, often to go shiver and glitch in a bathroom stall until he was sure the topic must have changed.

Hank was there to help him, though. Hank was always there. Even when Connor couldn't explain why his breath was stuttering or why he was frozen in place, Hank was there.

Like now, when Connor had his fingers wrapped around the car door handle but his arm refused to pull it open. Hank stopped short as he shoved one foot into the driver's side and looked over the roof of the car at Connor.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You wanna stay home?”

“...No,” Connor replied, shaking his head. He found just enough motor control to pop the door open. “I… I'd like to see everyone.”

See his friends, now that he could call them that. Chris and Carolyn and Kat. And Fowler, another protective father figure for him, in a different way than Hank was. And the other androids who'd been able to join the force in the last year. He would be able to genuinely talk and laugh with them this time, instead of awkward, stilted small talk.

“Alright, well, don't push yourself too hard.”

The car rocked as Hank clamored in, Connor following a moment after. The android stayed silent as he attempted to calm his processor, shutting down the processes that had sprung up without his approval and stabilizing others.

“He’s not gonna be there, y'know. Fowler said no plus-ones this year just to make sure.”

Connor frowned. “It’s unfortunate that he had to do that for my sake…”

“You think anybody but Chen’s gonna care that he’s not invited?” Hank barked, starting up the car and putting it into reverse in the same motion. “‘Sides, even if he  _ did  _ get some kind of stupid fuckin’ idea to muscle his way into Fowler’s place tonight… He might just end up bein’ the Ghost of Christmas Future.”

The analogy was… not quite apt, and Connor didn’t want any violence, but the sentiment was appreciated. He gave a queasy little smile before strapping himself in. “Thank you, Hank. But it won't be necessary.”

  
  


**[!GetTime]**

**[12/23/2039 17:43:18.2470465]**

“Connor!!”

“Hey, Con!”

“Heya, RoboCop!”

The chorus of greetings still surprised Connor as much as it had the first day he'd returned to the DPD. Perhaps even more so now that they were motivated by genuine happiness to see him, rather than the obligation to be cordial with one's coworkers. He returned them all in kind, shaking hands here and there and even receiving a few hugs, which he awkwardly accepted.

Not long into the night, he was forced to accept a gift from Andy, one if the handful of android recruits that the department had hired on. It was a token of his appreciation for Connor's help, he said, his mentorship to Andy and the rest of the androids in the precinct.

What a shock that had been. A year ago, the thought of being tolerated, much less  _ appreciated, _ was a foreign concept to Connor. So much had changed. His co-workers asked him to join them for lunch. Captain Fowler regularly recognized his accomplishments. He'd been tasked with training and integrating the android hires, even though he was still new himself, and apparently left a lasting impression. He was an Anderson now. He had friends,  _ family _ , all around him. People who trusted him, and who he trusted back.

This time last year, there had only been Hank—and Connor had been too afraid to involve him in anything.

  
  


**[!GetTime]**

**[12/23/2039 18:32:22.0663848]**

Captain Fowler had made a concession for Chris Miller on the no plus-ones rule. In fact, Chris had brought plus two: his wife and Damien, their one-year old.  _ Sixteen months _ , Mrs. Miller proudly proclaimed, holding tight to the chubby fingers that latched onto her hand to steady the little body attached to them. Damien wavered on his tiny legs, staring at the grey-haired man who knelt before him, then hiding his face against his mother's leg.

“Ah shi—shoot, that's right,” Hank grumbled to himself. Connor didn't miss how narrowly the lieutenant had avoided swearing in front if the child. “I got a little somethin’ for you, kid.”

Damien did not understand. He continued to tug on his mother's long skirt.

“Bet you'll like me better once I give you that, huh?” Hank craned his head up to look at the android standing over him. “Hey, you mind grabbing Damien's thing outta the car?”

“Sure thing, Hank,” Connor replied, leaving before he could hear Mrs. Miller admonishing Hank for spoiling her already very pampered child. He'd taken to bringing in toys, books, and clothes to pile onto Chris after meeting Damien last year. It wasn't very good for his budget, but it was a better way to deal with his grief than alcohol.

On his way out the door, Conor was nearly bowled over by Tina Chen, just arriving with a still-hot tray of brownies steaming in her hands. 

“Connor! Heyyy!” she grinned. Alcohol was already on her breath—just a touch of wine—and Connor could see from the vehicle idling outside that she hadn't driven herself. She pushed by him and forged a path through the crowd. “Sorry, gotta find a place to put these down!”

The way clear, Connor stepped out on the lawn, and then stopped. He recognized the vehicle Officer Chen had stepped out of. 

It was one he'd ridden in nearly a year ago. He could barely remember it, all just artifacted video and crackling audio, but he knew whose car that was. 

Connor's regulator sped to an uncomfortable speed, urging him to do the same.  _ Run, run, run, get out of here!!  _ it screamed.

His eyes flitted to Hank's car, parked on the side of the street just a space back from the one Connor refused to look at anymore. His mission right now was to get Damien's present. He could not let that car keep him from doing so; the driver wouldn't even notice him if he was fast enough.

A preconstruction needlessly built itself in Connor's head, laying the quickest path through the yard that had the least chance of being spotted. Run, duck, roll, stay low while reaching into the car.

He'd look  _ ridiculous _ if anyone caught him behaving like this was some kind of heist. Connor had confronted the man face to face in the aftermath of the protest and now he felt the need to turn getting a toy out of a car into a stealth mission in order to avoid him?

Instead, Connor kept his head low and his eyes averted while he forced heavy legs to carry him to the rusted vehicle. His fingers clenched and locked into fists, body closed in on itself, eyes glitched with shadows approaching from the distance. He ignored it all as best he could. Somehow, he made it there even with the walls trying to block him in and tell him no, this was  _ not _ the correct course of action.

With a shaking sigh, the android opened the rear passenger-side door and leaned in to pick up the package. It was on the other side of the car, so he'd have to reach farther, adding fractions of a second to its retrieval time. Just as Connor caught hold of it, a car door clicked open and slammed shut. 

Connor bolted upright, knocked his head on the roof of the car and dropping the gift somewhere on the floor. 

Two strains of panic fought inside Connor's processor: one melting down into childlike fear and the other desperately trying to calm him. The first begged to leave the gift and run back inside; the other insisted that it was some other car, he was confused and it wasn't Reed at all, Reed wasn't coming over here, it was all in Connor's head.

He scrambled to find the gift as footsteps crunched through the snow behind him; his visual processor was glitching bands of color through his sight that made it difficult to see properly.

There! There it was. Connor snatched up the package and whirled around to sprint back inside—but only found himself face to face with narrowed grey-green eyes and a scarred nose.

“Weren’t you gonna say hi to your old co-worker? Not even a wave?” Reed smirked, but there was less bite than usual. As a whole he looked… different. A little more unkempt, more slouched, almost… defeated. “I know you saw me.”

Connor stood backed against the car, staring wide-eyed and shaken at Gavin, like a deer in the headlights.

**[OBJECTIVE: DON'T MAKE A SCENE]**

The prompt blinked in Connor's HUD, and it made him shake. He remembered those words clear as day. The red LED on his temple flashed into the dark, casting angry light and dark shadows onto Reed's face.

It made the man look meaner, more vicious, though his sneer had faded into something difficult to place. It was not the kind of expression Connor expected to see; it was uncomfortable, serious, maybe a bit… no, there couldn't be remorse in there. 

“Okay, okay,”  Reed sighed, pulling his hands from his pockets. He held the up, palms forward to show there was nothing in them. “Jesus, chill out. You're looking at me like I'm so kinda fuckin’ ghost.”

To Connor, he might as well be. 

“W-what are you doing here?” the android stuttered. Last time he'd spoken to Gavin, the man had been bedridden in a hospital. Now he was free to move as he pleased, to Connor's horror.

“Waiting for Tina to get the rest of her shit outta my car,” Reed replied, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “I'd help but…” he paused, look back at the bright lights of the house. “Clearly, I'm not welcome. No invite, no plus-ones, load of horse shit. I worked there for more than ten fuckin’ years.”

Connor didn't move, didn't say anything. Reed wanted something, and he couldn't decipher what. 

“But whatever. I'm not here 'cause I'm pissed off about it.” Reed turned back to Connor. The light dancing across his face swirled yellow between the red. His eyes flitted over Connor's frozen body, backed up against the car and shrinking away from him. “You… you're really fuckin’ scared of me, huh? A hundred-fifty points of plastic and metal, supercomputer brain, and you're scared of me? Some loser meatbag?”

The android choked on his words. His voice glitched. “I—W-what do you want?”

Reed laughed and rubbed at his nose with one hand. It wasn't the same callous laughter as he normally made, but it wasn't quite kind.

“What do I want? From you? ...Fuck, I don't even know.”

“Then leave.”

“Nah I… I had to…” Reed lowered his head. Something changed in his composure, let out with a heavy, angry sigh. When he looked back up even the shadows couldn't mask the pained look on his face. “Look, I fucked up, I—”

“You… You fucked up?” Connor repeated flatly. A surge of hot rage coursed through his wires, breaking past the shocked, fearful silence he'd been trapped in. “If you're looking for forgiveness, Gavin, I don't think you fully understand—”

“No, I—”

“And  _ forgetting  _ isn't going to happen either—”

“Yeah, but—”

“So maybe it would be better to sit in your car and wait for Officer Chen rather than accost me with whatever weak attempt at an apology you might have.”

The words were final, and as Reed stepped further away and shrank into himself, Connor found the courage to rise at his full height. 

“I get all that!” the man snapped, scowling. “I just want you to know that I know I fucked up, okay?!”

But for what purpose? How could it possibly make anything better to know that Gavin had realized his mistakes? Maybe that's what Connor had wanted when he'd walked into that hospital room, but… Connor searched Gavin's face again, and found the guilt that had carved deep creases and dark circles into the man's skin. 

Connor opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. Before Gavin could continue, the front door burst open, flooding the yard with yellow light.

“ _ HEY!  _ You son of a  _ bitch,  _ Reed!” Hank's voice bellowed out into the night. “The fuck are you doing here?! Get the hell away from him!!”

Reed whipped around and growled, stalking back towards his car. “Calm your fuckin’ old man tits, Anderson, I was just leaving,” he spat back.

Hank's stony glare followed the former detective all the way back to his car, even as he came up to wrap a protective arm around Connor's shoulder. “You fuckin’ better be!” he shouted as Reed slammed the car door behind himself.

Tina was just scurrying out of the house as the scene ended. She wasn't at her sharpest, pre-gamed and giddy, so she missed the lieutenant ushering Connor back into the house and speaking in hushed tones.

“You alright, kid?” he asked.

“I'm okay, Hank,” Connor sighed, relief washing through his system. His pump was still trying to break loose from his chest, but everything was fine. 

“He do anything to you? He… he touch you?”

“No. He just… wanted to talk.”

Hank's heavy brows furrowed, matching the frown that tugged at his lips. “You're not just sayin’ that to make me feel better, right? You know you can talk to me.”

Connor smiled softly, and it seemed to reassure the man. “No, Hank. He really didn't do anything.”

Hank relaxed, shoulders sloping back as he opened the door and held it for Connor. They both glanced back out to the car; Reed had a cigarette stuck firmly between his lips, his eyes cast down while Officer Chen retrieved the rest of her food. He didn't once look up.

Maybe he hadn't let loose an android-maiming monster, maybe he'd done some good with that talk, maybe it was good that he hadn't decided to let Reed die. Things would never be the same, not with the little hiccups and glitches he still had in this body, and not with the memories he still held. But he was surrounded by people who liked him,  _ loved _ him, even, and would protect him from whatever came next. 

Just like that day he first walked down the street and saw what the humans saw, the colored lights seemed brighter, the laughing voices sweeter. 

A  **MISSION COMPLETE** notification pinged in Connor's HUD as he handed Damien's gifted off, and Hank in turn handed it to Damien to claw at weakly. His mother bent to help, revealing a tiny colored piano that chimed and clanged when little hands smashed against it. 

Connor smiled brightly, watching as Hank played a terribly discordant duet with the child. The headlights outside pulled away, though it barely registered. The night was just beginning, and even through his still-reeling processor, Connor finally felt safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll have you all know that I had this half-written for six months and open in Google docs about 80% of the time for those six months, so uh, I didn't forget about it. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading! Do check out my other stuff if you like my writing. It's mostly Reed900 mush, but who doesn't like that? ;D


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